Ain't It A Fine Life
by actingwithportals
Summary: Self-indulgent coffee shop au with a nice slice-of-life vibe. What happens when Crutchie finds Jacobi's Coffee and Eatery and discovers a home with the staff there that's better than any place he'd ever lived?
1. Chapter 1

"I've got one French-pressed light roast for . . . Crutchie?"

A young man rose to his feet, a single crutch underneath his arm and a loose-fitting jacket wrapped tightly around him. "That's me," he said, walking over to the counter and taking the outstretched cup of hot coffee extended towards him. He gave the barista a warm smile before turning to return to his seat.

"Have a good day," the barista called after him, a shock of messy brown hair on his head and a handsome grin playing across his face. He watched the young man take his seat, noting that he couldn't be much younger than himself, perhaps eighteen? His eyes didn't linger for long, his attention returning to his work and preparing the next cup of coffee for whatever waiting customer had ordered it.

Crutchie returned to his seat by the side door, leading out to a courtyard with more seating for the eatery portion of Jacobi's Coffee and Eatery. It was a small red leather couch where he sat, and it wasn't the most comfortable thing, but Crutchie found that he quite liked it there. Perhaps it was the view he got of the entire shop (or at least the portions that were visible, which was most except for the eatery portion of the building), or perhaps it was the closeness to the counter and easy access to grabbing his drink. Whatever the reason, Crutchie relished his spot, and settled in to get started on his work.

It was his first time entering Jacobi's, and Crutchie already felt at home. There was soft music playing in the background, and the smell of good food and good coffee in the air. The size of the shop was fairly large in comparison to some cafes he had been to, but that was probably due to the fact that this shop doubled as a restaurant. And the best part of all was that it didn't feel crowded, even though business was booming.

Crutchie took a sip of his coffee; it was still hot but the flavor was good. Setting down his cup, Crutchie picked up his bag and began pulling out his laptop and textbooks. Midterms were just around the corner and he needed to be prepared for when they came.

It didn't take long for Crutchie to fall into a routine. Read a few lines, take a sip of coffee, type out some notes, and repeat. The white noise of people and coffee machines drifted through him, creating a relaxing atmosphere. It was a good day, an excellent day, actually. Nothing could go wrong, and nothing would.

By the time he finished his coffee, it was cold and Crutchie had gone through three chapters of his textbook, taking notes all the while. It was good progress, but more still needed to be done.

Setting his books aside, Crutchie got up and returned to the counter.

"One French-pressed coffee please, light roast," he ordered, pulling out his wallet.

"Uh, didn't you order one like two hours ago?" asked the barista, a young man barely older than Crutchie himself, with curly blond hair and a thick New York accent.

"Race, you can't question the customers like that," the other barista with the handsome smile hissed, a look of exasperation on his face.

"It's alright," Crutchie assured him. "I gotta huge test coming up so I need the energy for studying."

"It's your funeral, kid," the barista, Race, chuckled. "That'll be $4.25. You want some sugar with that?"

"Yes, four packets please," Crutchie said, handing over the cash to the barista's outstretched hand.

"Coming right up," he said, giving Crutchie his change.

"What's this test on?" the other barista asked, grabbing the coffee and beginning to prepare Crutchie's drink.

"Biology," Crutchie answered. "So, I'm basically screwed."

"Oh man, I remember taking that class freshman year," the barista said, pouring the hot water into the French press. "What school you go to, kid?"

"NYU," Crutchie answered.

"Hey, what do you know, so do I," said the barista.

"Huh, small world," Crutchie laughed. "What do you study there?"

"Eh, nothing important," the barista answered. "What about you?"

"Eh, nothing important," Crutchie replied, mimicking the barista's answer.

"Fair deal," the barista said.

"Well, good talking to you," Crutchie responded, feeling a bit awkward for having stood in line for so long, relieved that no one had come up behind him to order.

"The name's Jack," the barista introduced. "Your name was . . . Crutchie, right?"

"That's it," Crutchie replied, smiling a little to himself, surprised that the barista had remembered.

"Good talk," Jack said, and went back to focusing on Crutchie's drink order.

* * *

Two hours passed and Crutchie was gone from the shop. Things were quiet, as the place was fairly empty now. It was the calm before the five o'clock rush hour. Jack yawned, debating on making himself a quick Americano before things picked up again, when Race turned to him.

"You were awfully chatty earlier," he noted.

"So?" Jack asked, not seeing his point.

"So, what's got your lips loose?" Race asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Kid seemed like he could use a friendly conversation, that's all," Jack answered simply, deciding to make that drink for himself and preparing a shot of espresso.

"Sure that was all it was?" Race asked, a mischievous look on his face.

"I'm sure," Jack retorted, downing the hot drink in one gulp.

Race shuddered. "That's coming out of your pay," he informed him.

"What the manager doesn't know won't hurt her," Jack responded.

"What don't I know?" a voice came from behind him.

Jack nearly tripped when he heard her voice. "Oh, hello Katherine," he said quickly, hiding the glass behind his back.

"That's miss Katherine to you, and I see that glass you're hiding," the manager responded, giving Jack a sharp look. "Are you sneaking drinks again?"

"Me? Sneaking drinks? Of course not," Jack said casually, trying to laugh it off, but there was a hint of nervousness in his voice.

"I'm docking you $3.75 for that," Katherine informed him.

Jack sighed. "Yes, miss Katherine," he said, a bit mockingly.

"It's almost five, so quit chit-chatting and get ready for the rush," Katherine added, turning on her heel to head back to the office. "Come get me if it gets too hectic for the two of you," she called behind her.

"Yes, miss," the two answered in unison.

"Man, she's a real piece of work," Race said as soon as Katherine had returned to the office.

"She's alright when she's not in work mode," Jack said, shrugging.

"Yeah, well that's all I ever see of her, so I ain't got much to go on, now do I?" Race pointed out.

"You should come get coffee with us sometime," Jack said. "You know we sometimes hit up the Starbucks down the street when we'se off."

"I think I have enough coffee and Katherine in my life," Race answered, grimacing.

"Suit yourself," Jack said. "But don't say I ain't never try to be nice to ya."

"Yeah, yeah."

They drifted back into silence, but Jack couldn't stop thinking about what Race had said earlier. Was he being chatty with that customer? He hadn't meant to, but it just came out. Jack shook his head. No, it was nothing, nothing at all. He was being friendly, and at that moment he had more important things to worry about.

The rest of his shift dragged on, cup after cup being poured, heated, foamed, and pressed. It wasn't a bad job, but a very monotonous one. He liked the atmosphere, and his coworkers were all decent people, but he couldn't help but think there was something more he could be doing with his life. Sure, he was working through school to get a degree, but would that change things? Would he still be working this same, boring job after he graduated, without any hope for change? These thoughts often plagued him while he worked, and it was a blessing when he finally got off.

Clocking out, Jack pulled on his coat and headed out the door, waving goodbye to Race as he left.

On his walk back home, Jack's thoughts returned to the customer from earlier. They went to the same school, but he had never seen this person before. It wasn't a small school, so that fact wasn't surprising, but Jack couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness about it. He found himself oddly intrigued by the kid. Perhaps it was the copious amounts of high-caffeine levels of coffee he drank in such a short time period? Perhaps it was the diligence he noticed the kid demonstrate in studying for those three hours he was in the shop? Perhaps it was the singular crutch held underneath his arm, used with such familiarity it was no doubt he had been acquainted with the tool for some time. Or perhaps it was the strange name he had clearly given himself, for whatever reason?

Jack shook his head, clearing his thoughts. He was nearly home, and had more important things to occupy his mind with than an intriguing customer at work.

However, a small part of him hoped that this customer in particular would return, and hopefully soon.

Jack sighed. He was home. Stepping through the door, he braced himself for what awaited inside.


	2. Chapter 2

"Mornin' Jack."

"Mornin' to you too," Jack replied in a groggy voice, walking to the back of the shop to lock his bag in one of the employee lockers. "How ya doing, Race?"

"Tired, you?" Race asked, wiping down the front counter.

"Dead on my feet. Just another Saturday, I suppose?" Jack said, going to the front door to switch the sign to open.

"Another day, another dollar," Race stated, finishing up with the counter and putting away the rag.

"Yeah, and another dollar the big guy takes from us too," Jack put in, not bothering to use the door but rather leaping over the counter to get to his position by the coffee machines.

"Hey, I just wiped that thing down," Race protested, pulling the rag back out and meticulously beginning to wipe it down again.

"Sorry, kid," Jack apologized, tying on his apron.

"Mornin' fellas!"

"Mornin' Romeo," the two called in unison to the boy coming from the eatery, rag on his shoulder and spray bottle in hand.

"You'se late getting to those tables," Race informed him, pointing at the several tables that were scattered throughout the coffee shop.

"Cut me some slack, it's a Saturday at six in the morning," Romeo complained, beginning to spray disinfectant on one of the tables and wiping it down.

"That ain't good enough for the managers and it ain't good enough for me," Race told him. "Customers'll be coming in soon, so I suggest you hurry up with that."

"Yes, sir," Romeo said, moving on to another table.

"Cut the kid some slack, he's still in high school," Jack said quietly to Race, rolling up his sleeves and starting up one of the coffee pots. He needed a morning kick.

"You ain't never cut me slack when I joined here," Race pointed out, crossing his arms.

"You was in college at the time," Jack reminded him.

"So, I was still a freshman, barely out into the real world yet," Race argued. "I's just busting his ass nicely before Davey can come and do it for real."

"Where is Davey, anyways?" Jack inquired, looking around.

"Did someone say my name?" a voice came from the back hallway, the swinging door pushing open and Davey emerging from the other side.

"We was just talking about you," Jack said, stepping back from behind the counter and clapping a hand on Davey's shoulder.

"Ugh, it's too early to deal with whatever nonsense you two are causing," Davey said, shrugging Jack's hand off of him. "We had a real late night last night."

"That bad?" Jack asked, a look of sympathy in his eyes.

"Couple of drunk guys didn't want to leave," Race put in from behind the counter. "Had to get Spot to 'escort' them out."

"Yikes, sorry to hear that, Davey," Jack said genuinely.

"That's just a part of business," Davey replied. "Now enough standing around, customers will be here soon. Romeo, are you still cleaning tables?"

"I'm almost done!" Romeo protested, wiping down the table faster.

A few minutes later customers began to pour in and the day had begun. Jack kept his mind busy with work, trying not to let his thoughts wander to darker places. He focused on every order, making sure to go all out on every chance he had to do latte art to keep his mind occupied. His latte art was a huge hit with the customers and had been a high attraction for tourists coming there. He often tried to do latte art of the person who had ordered the drink, attempting to practice his skills on human anatomy, and while he thought his skills were poor, his fellow coworkers and customers would say otherwise.

It was around eleven when the bell on the door rang, signaling the entrance of another customer. Jack looked up to greet them as always and was met with the familiar green eyes and bright smile of the customer from the day before.

"Welcome to Jacobi's," Jack said warmly, a strange feeling in his chest building up at the sight of the customer. He quickly pushed those feelings away, though, and continued to focus on the drink he was preparing.

Crutchie smiled politely at Jack, taking a seat at one of the tables and picking up a menu to look it over.

Jack frowned in disappointment. He was coming for the food, not the coffee today. He wasn't sure why, but he felt personally offended by this. He realized this thought was silly, but it didn't change it from existing.

A few minutes later, a short, gruff man with hair shaved nearly to the top of his head came to Crutchie's table. "What can I do ya for?" he asked, his tone sounding bored, pen and pad in hand.

"I would like . . ." he began, still looking over the menu. "Blueberry waffles and a large French-pressed coffee."

"Would you like regular syrup or espresso syrup with that?" the waiter asked.

"Espresso syrup, please," Crutchie said, handing the waiter the menu.

He took the menu, finishing writing the order on his notepad. "Alright, the name's Spot by the way, so just shout for me if ya need something."

Crutchie nodded, thanking the waiter.

"Hey Jack, one large French-pressed coffee," Spot called over to Jack.

"Oh, with four sugars please," Crutchie quickly added, hoping it wasn't too late to ask.

"With four sugars," Spot called again, surprisingly not sounding irritated, but rather just bored.

"Thank you," Crutchie said as the waiter walked away, back through the doors to the eatery side. Crutchie was grateful the shop had tables on both the coffee shop side as well as the eatery side. He liked being close to the coffee, the smell helped wake him up and the sounds of the machines were oddly soothing to him. He hated the sounds of kitchens, on the other hand. They were too loud, too much yelling. It was a more stressful environment and he wanted to stay as far away from it as possible.

It didn't take long for the waiter to come back with Crutchie's coffee, setting it down wordlessly on the table. Crutchie tried to thank him, but the waiter was gone before he had a chance. He supposed it must just be very busy and the waiter had other places to be, rather than assume the waiter was intentionally being rude. At least, he hoped so.

When his food came, Crutchie ate in silence, occasionally reading over his textbook in between bites of waffle. He asked for more espresso syrup when the waiter was nearby, and the waiter gave him a quizzical look before nodding and setting off again to get the syrup.

Crutchie was halfway through dousing his waffles in more syrup when the chair across from him pulled up, and the barista who had made his coffee sat down across from him.

"How ya doing?" Jack, asked.

"Alright, I suppose," Crutchie answered noncommittally. "You uh, not working right now?"

"On a lunch break, every other table is full," Jack answered casually.

"Oh, well, that seat's open," Crutchie said, laughing a little. "How long you've been working to already be on break?"

"Only about five hours, but another barista just came in so I figured I could take my break a little early and get it out of the way," Jack answered. "Still reading that biology book?"

"Yeah, my midterm is in two days and I wanna be as ready as possible," Crutchie said. "You said you took biology already? Who did you have?"

"Phillips," Jack answered. "You?"

"Same," Crutchie responded. "How hard are his midterms?"

"Oh, they're hell," Jack explained. "But I also didn't study very hard, so I think you'll be okay. Seems like you're putting in the right amount of effort."

"I hope so, if I don't keep my grades up I don't keep my scholarships," Crutchie explained.

"You got scholarships?" Jack asked. "That's pretty impressive."

"Not really," Crutchie explained. "Just a couple from the state, and the rest is from my granddad. But he said that if I don't keep my other scholarships and my grades good, he's gonna take away the pay he gives me."

"Sounds like you've got your hands full," Jack stated, humming softly to himself.

"What about you? Got any scholarships?" Crutchie asked, curious.

"Me? Nah, just busting my ass to pay myself and a little bit left from my parents," Jack explained. "Trust me, I wouldn't be working in some shop like this if I didn't have to."

"This doesn't seem like such a bad place to work, though," Crutchie said. "Hell, I'd love to work someplace like this if I had the time."

"Hey, if I ever decide to quit you can have my job," Jack joked, but some small part of him meaning it.

"Thanks, I appreciate it," Crutchie said, smiling.

"So, why so secretive about what you're studying?" Jack asked, a mischievous smile playing across his lips.

"I don't know, why are you?" Crutchie shot back, challenging him.

"It just ain't nothing too exciting is all," Jack admitted.

"Oh, I'm sure it ain't that bad," Crutchie said. "If you'se passionate about it, it must be something good."

"I wouldn't say I'se passionate about it," Jack admitted. "But it is what it is."

"What is it?" Crutchie questioned.

"Pre-law," Jack stated, a bitter tone in his voice.

"Whoa, that's a commitment," Crutchie said, whistling in disbelief. "You don't strike me as a pre-law kind of guy."

"Gotta do what you gotta do," Jack replied. "But anyways, what are you studying? Whatever it is, it's gotta be better than pre-law."

"Well, I don't know about that, not sure it can pay the bills like pre-law could," Crutchie admitted. "But it's pretty fun, I suppose."

"And?" Jack asked. "What is it?"

"Theatre performance," Crutchie answered, feeling his cheeks turn a little red.

"Whoa, theatre, that's some fancy stuff," Jack said. "Wish I could do something like that."

"Well, why can't you?" Crutchie asked.

"Not sure my benefactor would feel too pleased with something like that," Jack admitted.

"Benefactor?" Crutchie questioned, confused.

"Step dad," Jack explained.

Crutchie nodded in understanding. "Gotta do what you gotta do," he echoed Jack's words, taking a bite from his waffles.

Just then, the waiter returned, giving Jack a tired look. "It ain't your break time yet, Kelly," he scolded him.

"Elmer just came in and I got twenty minutes until my break," Jack argued. "What Katherine doesn't know won't hurt her."

"Those are dangerous words," the waiter informed him. "What can I get ya?"

"The usual, and don't be skimpy with the tapenade this time, alright Spot?" Jack ordered.

"That's a conversation for you to have with Finch and Tommy, not me," Spot answered, writing down the order. "I'se got lots of customers today so it'll be a few."

"That's fine," Jack said, waving as Spot made his way back to the kitchen. He returned his attention to Crutchie, who was eating another bite of his waffle. "So, theatre," Jack said. "You trying out for any shows?"

"Uh, not yet," Crutchie admitted. "I'se still a freshman and all, I don't know if I could actually make it onto a show."

"You'll never know if you don't try," Jack pointed out. "Besides, I heard the show list for the spring is gonna be incredible. You gotta try out."

Crutchie hummed to himself. "We'll see."

The two sat in silence for a few minutes, Crutchie finishing his waffle and going back to his reading, while Jack tapped away on his phone screen. When his food finally came out, he ate it as quickly as possible, telling Spot to put the sandwich on his tab.

"Well, it was good talking to ya," Jack said when he finished, getting up from his seat. "See you around?"

"Yeah, I'll probably be around," Crutchie said, waving as Jack returned to the place behind the counter. Crutchie paid for his meal and packed up his stuff, heading back out into the brisk outdoor air.

"Who was that?" Elmer asked, watching as the customer left through the front door.

"Just some kid I met here yesterday," Jack explained, working on a drink order.

"Yeah, and he's been eyeing him ever since he stepped into this place," Race put in, leaning back on the counter.

"Shut up, I ain't been eyeing nobody," Jack argued, shoving Race lightly.

"Sure you haven't," Race said in a mocking tone.

"Medium iced coffee, no sugar," Jack called, handing the drink to the appropriate customer.

"He was pretty cute, but I think a bit young for you," Elmer teased.

"Actually, the kid's in college," Race corrected. "So, he's technically fair game, yeah?"

"It ain't like that," Jack argued. "Now shut up and get back to work, you two."

"Whatever you say, Jacky boy," Race mocked, returning to the register.

Jack glared at him, but didn't say anything more on the matter. Race wasn't correct, he hadn't been eyeing that kid and he wasn't at all interested. He was just . . . mildly intrigued is all. Besides, he barely knew the kid and had no reason to feel any sort of attraction to someone he had only just met.

But he couldn't lie to himself, there was definite intrigue there.

Whatever the case, Jack pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind yet again. He had a big day tomorrow and needed a clear head in order to get through it. He could worry about abstract feelings and Race's teasing later.

After all, they were only feelings.


	3. Chapter 3

"You, uh, you think he's dead?"

"Shut up, Race," Jack hushed, eyeing the customer who currently had his head down on the counter, completely unmoving and, from as far as they could tell, not breathing.

"He's been lying like that for the past half hour, we'se got to close up," Race argued, letting his voice raise a little above a whisper.

"I know, I hear ya," Jack assured him. "You think he went too far with the caffeine this time and crashed?"

"Probably, the kid ordered three large French-pressed coffees and two Americanos in the past six hours," Race said, furrowing his brows. "I mean, with that much caffeine a kid this small should be dead."

"I'm sure he ain't dead, just out," Jack said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I mean, he can't be dead, can he?"

"Poke him and see," Race instructed. "You do it; I ain't touching no corpse."

Jack rolled his eyes. "I's sure he's fine," he said, though not entirely believing it himself. Reaching out a hand, he gently poked the customer on the shoulder. "Hey, Crutchie, you in there?"

No response.

"Yep, he's dead," Race confirmed. "We'se gonna have to explain this to the cops, ain't we?"

"Shut up," Jack snapped. "Hey, Crutchie, c'mon wake up. We'se closing now."

Crutchie stirred, slowly lifting his head and staring at the two baristas behind the counter blankly.

"See, told you he was alive," Jack said to Race. "How ya doing, buddy?"

Crutchie blinked, staring at the two of them as if he wasn't sure where he was. He slowly rubbed his eyes and some clarity seemed to come back to him. "Tired," he mumbled eventually.

"Yeah, we got that impression," Jack chuckled. "Think you overdid it with the coffee today."

"Need more," Crutchie said groggily. "Still got more studying to do."

"Sorry, you've reached your limit," Jack informed him. "And besides, we'se technically closed now."

Crutchie groaned. "How long have I been out?" he asked, still trying to acclimate himself to being awake.

"About half an hour," Race answered. "One minute you was awake reading that book and the next you was out, book on the floor and everything."

"What?" Crutchie asked, looking down at the floor quickly and groaning again. He got off the stool to reach down and grab the book, but the minute he stepped down his legs became wobbly and promptly fell over.

"Hey, you okay?" Jack asked, quickly coming around from behind the counter to help Crutchie back to his feet.

"Yeah, fine," Crutchie muttered, rubbing his side sorely, still sitting on the ground.

"Give me your hand, let me help ya up," Jack instructed, holding out his hand to him.

Crutchie looked at it for a minute before taking his hand and allowing the older man to pull him to his feet. "Thanks," Crutchie said, putting his crutch beneath his arm to help steady himself.

"You sure you okay?" Jack asked. "That was one hell of a fall and no offense but you look dead."

"Yeah, I'se just out of it, I guess," Crutchie shrugged.

"Yeah, five cups of coffee will do that to ya," Race muttered, pulling out a rag and wiping the counter where Crutchie had been laying his head.

"Sorry, I, uh, really needed the energy today," Crutchie said sheepishly.

"Hey, finals aren't for another two weeks, why are you studying so hard?" Jack asked.

"My granddad's really been getting on me about my grades," Crutchie admitted. "Says I'se been slacking getting Bs lately."

"You'se making Bs?" Jack asked. "Man, I wish I could make grades that good. What's his problem with Bs, anyways?"

"They ain't As," Crutchie answered simply. "Says I make As or he ain't paying for college no more."

"Sounds to me like he's a real piece of-" Race started.

"Work," Jack finished for him.

"Yeah, but he is paying for most of my schooling so I gotta do as he asks," Crutchie said, shrugging. "I'm fortunate enough he's letting me pick my own major, the least I can do is get good grades."

"Yeah, but don't push yourself too hard," Jack warned him. "You'se gonna crash one day, and I mean big time, not just here on our countertop."

"Thanks, but it ain't nothing to worry about," Crutchie assured him. "Anyways, I gotta go catch a bus. What time is it?"

"Five after midnight," Race answered.

"Shit," Crutchie muttered.

"What's the matter?" Jack asked.

"Last bus left for campus ten minutes ago," Crutchie explained. "It ain't a far walk from here, though, so it ain't too bad."

"Campus is twenty blocks from here," Jack pointed out. "That ain't a short walk."

"Gotta do what you gotta do," Crutchie said, putting his books in his bag and hiking it over his shoulder.

"Uh-uh, no way, we'll give you a ride," Jack said firmly.

"It ain't a big deal, I can walk-" Crutchie tried to assure him, but was cut off.

"No, you ain't, not at this time of night," Jack told him. "Hey Spot!" he called, turning his head towards the doorway to the eatery.

"One minute, Kelly!" Spot's gruff voice called back. A few bangs and dings, followed by muffled swearing, could be heard coming from the kitchen. A couple minutes later Spot emerged from the eatery, an annoyed look on his face.

"Covering for Davey again?" Jack asked, noting his expression.

"Family emergency," Spot clarified, rolling down his sleeves and pulling on a jacket.

"The manager's okay, right?" Race asked, a note of concern in his voice.

"Yeah, it ain't nothing to worry about, he just needed to get home early tonight," Spot assured him.

"Hey Spot, you don't mind giving one extra person a ride tonight, do ya?" Jack asked, giving Spot a pleadingly adorable look, one that Spot did not find amusing in the slightest.

Spot looked over at Crutchie, eyeing him up and down. "Oh, it's you," he said plainly.

"I missed the bus," Crutchie said apologetically. "If it's too much trouble I can walk, no problem."

"Ain't no reason to walk when I has a car," Spot said, sighing. "Hurry up and finish with your cleanup so we can head out."

"Just finished," Race announced. "Let me clock out and I'll be ready to go."

"Kelly, you need a ride?" Spot asked, looking at Jack.

"I mean, if you'se offering," Jack said, shrugging.

"I'se feeling generous tonight, so take it," Spot ordered.

"Yes, sir," Jack said, saluting to him.

"Car's out back, let's go," Spot said, leading the way through the kitchen and out the back door of the shop. Crutchie couldn't help but feel a little giddy as he walked through the back alleyway. It wasn't every day you get to go behind doors you were generally not supposed to, especially on your way towards getting into a stranger's car.

Were they strangers? It had been over a month since Crutchie came into the shop that first time, meeting Jack and Race right off the bat and Spot only the next day. In that short amount of time he had gotten to know Jack fairly well, or at least as well as you could know an acquaintance. But the other two? Crutchie wasn't sure. He supposed this could be a bad decision and lead to him getting into some sort of trouble, but Crutchie put that thought aside and chose to believe a more positive outlook. Jack was a good acquaintance and both Race and Spot seemed like decent people. He shouldn't have anything to worry about.

Besides, Jack was right. The walk back was far, and even though he would never admit it out loud, Crutchie didn't like the prospect of walking all that way, especially now that the nights were getting colder. No, he was grateful for the ride, risky or not.

"Shotgun," Race called when they got close to the car, taking his chosen seat in the front with Spot.

"Like Spot would let anyone else take it," Jack pointed out.

Spot didn't respond to Jack, instead looking at Crutchie. "Back good for you?" he asked.

"Back's good," Crutchie answered, opening the door to the backseat. It was a small car, but it wasn't cramped, and luckily his crutch fit into the back with little trouble.

Once everyone was situated in the car, Spot began to pull out. "Where am I headed?" he asked.

"You live on campus, right?" Jack asked Crutchie.

"Yeah, I'll pull up directions for you," Crutchie said, pulling out his phone and getting the directions. He handed the phone to Spot, who set out on the route back to Crutchie's dorm.

"So kid, what do you study at school?" Race asked once they were on the road.

"Theatre performance," Crutchie answered, feeling the same embarrassment he always felt when telling someone about his major.

"Well, ain't that spiffy," Race said, whistling.

"What do you two study?" Crutchie asked curiously.

"Nothin', I ain't in college no more," Race answered. "Took two years of it and realized it wasn't for me so I dropped it to work full time at the shop."

"Astronomical physics," Spot answered.

"Whoa, really?" Crutchie asked, amazed.

"Hah, no," Jack answered for Spot. "Every time you ask him he tells you something different. The guy graduated already but no one knows in what."

"Except for me, that is," Race put in.

"And do you know that, for sure?" Jack questioned.

"Oh, I know, trust me," Race said, turning back to look at Jack, winking.

"Alright, whatever you'se insinuating I don't want to know," Jack said, cringing.

Crutchie was confused by the exchange, but didn't question it. "So, Jack, do you live on campus too?"

"Nah, I still live with my step dad," Jack answered. "Saving up to move out pretty soon, though. Ready to get a place of my own."

"You'se been saying that for two years," Race groaned. "How's that coming for ya?"

"Hey, I'se almost got enough," Jack said. "And once I find a place I can start working more hours and switch to all online classes."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say," Race waved his hand in Jack's direction.

The rest of the car ride went on in silence. Crutchie tried to think of some conversation topics but nothing came to mind, and before he knew it Spot was pulling up in front of his dorm.

"Thanks for the ride," Crutchie said, getting out of the car.

"No problem," Spot said, giving him a small nod and handing him his phone back.

"See you around, kid!" Jack said, waving goodbye.

Spot waited for Crutchie to get inside before driving off. Once they were a few minutes away, Race broke the silence.

"So, he's pretty cute, huh?" he said, giving Jack another wink.

"Would you stop with that?" Jack asked, exasperated.

"C'mon, Spot, don't you think there's something going on there?" Race pointed out to him. "Or at least there could be something going on."

"I think that's none of my business," Spot said, more focused on the road than the conversation.

"Aw, that ain't no fun," Race whined.

"Race I swear I'm going to hit you if you don't stop," Jack threatened.

"And I'll beat your ass," Spot warned him.

"Joking, totally joking," Jack said quickly.

"I'se seen the way you'se been eyeing him these past weeks," Race pointed out. "You go all heart eyes every time he comes into the shop. Admit it, you'se got a thing for the kid."

"I ain't got a thing for him, we ain't even friends!" Jack argued.

"That didn't stop you when you was crushing on Katherine," Race reminded him.

"Katherine's different," Jack stated.

"Why? Because she's a girl?" Race asked. "Jack, we know you'se bi as hell, there ain't no sense in denying it."

"And what makes you think I am?" Jack shot back.

"Don't think I don't see you checking out Davey's ass every now and again," Race said.

"I-I do not!" Jack stuttered.

"Yes, you do," Spot put in.

"Okay, maybe I do a little, but can you really blame me?" Jack said.

"Oh, can't blame you there," Race agreed. "I just need you to realize how gay you actually are."

"Look, it's all fine and dandy for you two, but you ain't stuck living with an old fashioned old man," Jack pointed out. "Even if I was it's not like I could ever act on it."

"How is that whole moving out thing working for ya?" Spot asked, his tone serious.

"It's coming," Jack answered shortly.

"How much longer?" Spot questioned further.

Jack didn't answer.

"You know we'se got a couch if you need a place to stay," Race offered, his tone softening.

"It's fine, I can deal for a few more months," Jack assured them.

"Whatever you say, Kelly," Spot said, pulling up to an apartment complex.

"Thanks for the ride, guys," Jack said, getting out of the car.

"See you in the morning," Race called after him as Jack closed the door.

* * *

"I'm home," Jack called, putting his keys on the key rack by the door.

"You're late," an annoyed voice called from the next room.

Jack walked into the living room, taking in the sight of his tiny apartment. It was well kept for the most part, a few cups laying around here and there and some misplaced magazines but nothing terrible. There was a man sitting on the couch, computer in his lap and TV on in front of him. He was older, with greying hair that was starting to bald. He had deep set frown lines and crinkles around his eyes, most likely from stress.

"I told you I was closing tonight," Jack explained, not wanting to stay and chat but knowing better than to just walk away.

"That was half an hour ago, the walk isn't that long," the older man said, looking at him with suspicion.

"I got a ride home with a coworker and we had to drop someone else off first," Jack added, hoping that would be enough for him.

"Which coworker?" the man asked.

"Spot Conlon," Jack answered simply.

"Does anyone at your work use real names or is everyone still living in their teenage years there?" the man questioned, sounding exasperated.

Jack shrugged. "That's just what he goes by, don't ask me why."

"I don't need an attitude from you, young man," the older man said in a tired voice.

"I wasn't giving you attitude, sir," Jack responded, a bit smartly.

"That time you most certainly were," the man snapped, giving Jack a harsh look.

"You know, as riveting as this conversation is, I'se got a long day tomorrow and would like to go to bed," Jack responded, trying his best to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

"Have you cleaned your room?" the man asked.

"I ain't five, I don't have to clean my room every day," Jack argued.

"You're living under my roof, living off of my paycheck," the man argued back. "You will do as I say if you want things to stay that way."

"Yeah, well maybe I don't," Jack snapped, feeling his frustration rise. "You know, I got offered a place to stay just a few minutes ago. I could move out and never be in your hair again if that's what you would like."

"Then take up the offer!" the man exploded, setting aside his computer and getting up, towering above Jack. "Move out, drop out of school for all I care! You've been nothing but ungrateful for the past ten years, and I'd be more than happy to no longer have to deal with you!"

"Then maybe I will!" Jack shouted. "I'se got better things to do with my life than be stuck with some old geezer who ain't got no name for himself! You'se been nothing but an ass ever since mom died, anyways!"

"At least I didn't flunk out of school like you're about to," the man snapped. "Don't have a name for myself? I have a roof over my head, a well-paying job, and two college degrees? What have you got?"

"A boss that actually likes me, not just because I screw her on the weekends," Jack muttered.

The apartment was dead silent, save for the sound of a loud slap that resonated throughout the room.

"Go to your room," the man seethed.

"I'm not eleven anymore, you can't tell me what to do," Jack mumbled, holding his hand against his sore cheek.

The man raised his hand, and Jack flinched. Without another word, Jack grabbed his bag from off the floor and went to his room, slamming the door behind him.


	4. Chapter 4

"I got an A, I got an A!"

"That's great, kid!" Jack said enthusiastically, giving an overly excited Crutchie a high five from behind the counter.

"How'd the rest of your finals go?" Race asked, leaning forward on the counter in interest.

"I got one B, but it was enough to bump my total grade up to an A," Crutchie explained. "I did it! I got all As this semester!"

"I'se proud of you, Crutchie," Jack said, reaching across the counter to ruffle his hair. Crutchie swatted his hand away playfully, grinning from ear to ear.

"This is cause for celebration," Race announced. "Whatever you want kid, it's on the house."

"One large French-pressed coffee, light roast, and four sugars," Crutchie said excitedly.

"Should have guessed," Race said, handing a cup to Jack for him to prepare.

"Only the best for our genius here," Jack said, getting started on the drink. Crutchie beamed, taking his seat at the counter.

"Who's a genius?" Katherine asked, coming behind the counter, tying up her apron.

"Mr. Crutchie Morris here," Jack said, indicating to the customer sitting at the counter. Crutchie smiled brightly at her, and Katherine couldn't help but smile back.

"Did your finals go well?" Katherine asked, guessing at what they were talking about.

"Ending the semester with all As," Crutchie said proudly, straightening up in his seat a bit.

"Well look at that, you are a genius," Katherine agreed, fighting the urge to pat him on the head.

"It ain't that special," Crutchie said bashfully.

"All As is a big deal," Katherine exclaimed. "Race, get this kid a drink, on us."

"One step ahead of you, Kath," Race said. "Jack's already making it."

"Katherine, are you condoning giving away free drinks?" Jack asked in mock appall.

"This is a special occasion," Katherine responded. "Rules can be bent. After all, he is an avid customer, so it's the least we could do for someone who gives us so much business. Just, you know, don't tell Davey."

"Don't tell me what?" Davey called, coming from the eatery and making his way to the others at the counter from across the coffee shop.

"Nothing!" Katherine, Jack, and Race all said at the same time.

"How did he hear us?" Race whispered to the others, stunned.

Davey stopped, staring hard at them all. "I find that hard to believe," he stated, looking each of them over carefully.

"Don't worry about it," Jack said, mixing sugar into the coffee. "We just didn't want you to know that you have an ass that just won't quit."

Davey's face immediately turned pink. "Watch your mouth, Jack, before I report you for sexual harassment."

Jack pouted, and Race laughed. "Whatever happened to romance?"

Crutchie was finding it hard to keep a straight face, while Katherine held her hand over her mouth to cover up her smile.

"Get back to work, all of you," Davey said tiredly. "We've got actual customers to worry about."

"I'm making a drink for a customer now," Jack argued, finishing up the coffee and handing it to Crutchie.

"Crutchie doesn't count as a customer at this point," Davey stated.

"Why not?" Crutchie asked, looking hurt.

"Because, you're here every day for hours at a time, drinking all our coffee that I'm not even certain you pay for. You're more like a lazy employee at this point," Davey explained. "A lazy employee who doesn't get paid."

Crutchie looked at him, confused and unsure if he should take that as a compliment or insult.

"You're like an honorary member of our team," Katherine clarified. "Which, by the way, you're always welcome to apply for a job here, if you want."

Crutchie looked up, grinning. "Really?" he asked.

"Of course," Katherine said. "With as much coffee as you drink I'm sure you would do well here."

Crutchie beamed from ear to ear, but it faltered for a moment. "As nice as that would be, I'm not sure I would have time to have a job next semester," he pointed out.

"Why's that?" Jack asked. "Ain't you still a freshman? You shouldn't be that busy yet."

"Yeah, but next semester I want to audition for the shows the theatre department is putting on," Crutchie explained.

"Well, hell, do that," Jack said. "That's far more exciting than working at some lame coffee shop anyhow."

"Hey, this place isn't lame," Davey argued. "It's cool."

"Davey, you're one of the managers here, it can't be that cool," Race put in.

Davey huffed, crossing his arms, looking clearly offended.

"Anyways, best of luck to you, Crutchie," Jack said. "Or, break a leg, whatever it is you theatre kids say."

"Thanks Jack," Crutchie thanked him, but his expression fell. "There's uh, only one problem."

"What's that?" Race asked.

"Now that finals are over, dorms are closing soon," Crutchie said. "And I still haven't found a place to stay until the next semester."

Davey frowned. "What about your family, can't you stay with them?"

"Ain't got one," Crutchie explained simply. "Granddad don't want me staying with him, says it's too much of an inconvenience for him. And he don't live in town, anyways, so I guess it's an inconvenience for me too."

"Well who were you staying with before school?" Davey asked, confused.

"Foster family," Crutchie stated. "Haven't heard from them since I left this summer."

"Why are we just now hearing about this?" Jack asked.

"Well, I was trying to find a place that I could afford to rent out for a few weeks, but ain't no places willing to take someone in for just a few weeks around here," Crutchie explained.

"When does campus kick you out for the semester?" Race asked.

"Three days," Crutchie admitted.

"Crutchie!" Katherine, Race, and Jack all exclaimed at the same time.

"What?" Crutchie asked. "I told you I'se been trying to find a place. It just hasn't happened yet."

"You'se got three days left," Jack pointed out. "What are you gonna do when you don't find somewhere to stay?"

Crutchie shrugged. "Get a hotel room?" he suggested. "I ain't got much stuff to pack up, and I'se got money saved up from working this summer. I'se got a plan B if all else fails."'

"Getting a hotel room doesn't sound like an ideal plan," Katherine pointed out.

"Gotta do what you gotta do," Crutchie said simply.

"No, no way," Davey said, suddenly speaking up. "You're not staying in some dingy hotel room for the whole winter break."

"I ain't got many other options," Crutchie stated.

"Look, I've got a place," Davey started. "It isn't much, but it's got heating and a couch. You're more than welcome to come stay with me until you can go back to school."

Crutchie stared blankly at him. "I-I can't impose on you like that-"

"You won't be, trust me," Davey interrupted him. "I'm not having one of our best customers go homeless and possibly lose his business here. You're staying with me."

Crutchie started to argue, but Jack interrupted him.

"I'd take the offer," Jack said. "Davey's a cool guy, I promise he won't bite or nothing."

"It ain't too much trouble?" Crutchie asked, looking back at Davey.

"No trouble, I'm happy to help," Davey said. "Any friend of Jack's is a friend of mine. Actually no, I take that back. Some friends of Jack are friends of mine. Maybe just eighty percent of Jack's friends are friends of mine."

"What you tryna say?" Jack asked, offended.

"I don't trust all the people you hang out with," Davey answered simply.

"Like who?" Jack asked.

"I don't know, I just feel like you would hang out with shady people on the side. You know, artists and such," Davey explained.

"Very funny," Jack said sarcastically.

"Anyways," Davey said. "What do you say, kid?"

Crutchie thought about it, taking a sip of his coffee. "If it ain't much trouble for you," he started. "Then that would be great."

"Great," Davey exclaimed. "I'll drive you back to your dorm after I get off and we can get your stuff."  
"Great, thanks so much," Crutchie said, grateful.

"No worries," Davey assured him.

"See, things always work out in the end," Katherine said, smiling brightly.

"Now get back to work, all of you," Davey instructed. "We've got paying customers who want their coffee and pastries."

"Yes sir," the three behind the counter said in unison.

Crutchie grinned, taking another sip of his coffee and feeling relief running through him. Part of him felt giddy at the thought of staying with someone he didn't know very well for a few weeks, part of him warning himself that it was a bad idea and to be concerned. But Crutchie pushed that thought away, deciding to trust the assurances Jack gave him. Besides, it couldn't be any more dangerous than staying in a hotel somewhere. No, it would be fine. In fact, it would be grand. Crutchie would make sure of it.

* * *

"This is it," Davey said, pulling up his car in front of a small apartment building. The walls were grey and worn, and the steps looked cracked, but it was a place to stay, and Crutchie couldn't be happier.

"Come on, let's get inside," Davey said, turning off the car and getting out, Crutchie following suit behind him. Davey grabbed Crutchie's suitcase for him while Crutchie grabbed his backpack, throwing it over his shoulder.

"Which apartment is yours?" Crutchie asked, looking around.

"Three fourteen," Davey answered, rolling Crutchie's suitcase behind him as he made his way to the nearest staircase.

Crutchie stopped, looking at Davey with dismay. "That's on the third floor, right?" he asked, trying to keep his tone steady.

"Yeah, why?" Davey asked, confused.

"No reason, just clarifying," Crutchie answered quickly, following behind him. Davey continued on up the stairs, leaving Crutchie at the bottom to stare at them. It took only a few seconds for Davey to turn around and stare back down at Crutchie, a look of understanding finally coming across his face.

"Oh, Crutchie, I'm so sorry, I didn't-there's no elevator . . ." Davey stammered, realizing his mistake and wanting to hit himself for being so stupid.

"Oh, no, it's fine," Crutchie said quickly. "Stairs ain't a problem."

"Are you sure?" Davey asked, not knowing what he would actually do if they were a problem.

"Yeah, I'se sure," Crutchie said, hefting his bag further up on his shoulders. He leaned on his crutch as he put his good leg onto the step, pulling himself up with the help of the railing. The process was slow, but it was steady. Davey watched dumbly as Crutchie made his slow ascent, stepping out of his way as Crutchie reached his place on the second flight. Davey pretended not to notice how Crutchie grit his teeth and seemed to be breathing more heavily, only following quietly behind him.

When they finally reached the third floor, Crutchie stopped at the top of the stairs, taking a deep breath and trying to steady himself. His legs felt wobbly, but he didn't make a complaint, instead turning to Davey who had come up beside him.

"Which is yours?" he asked, pulling up a smile as he asked the question. Davey didn't know how to respond for a moment, staring at Crutchie's face blankly before registering that he had been asked something.

"Oh, this one," he said, pointing and making his way down the hallway. They stopped at the door that read '314' and Davey unlocked the door, pulling Crutchie's bag behind him inside.

Davey turned on the lights, and Crutchie got his first view of the place he would be staying for the next few weeks. It was small, nothing more than a simple kitchen and laundry room connected to a living room, and a door leading to what Crutchie assumed was Davey's bedroom, but it was neatly kept and smelled fresh and clean. There was a vase of flowers on the table, and a basket just by the door for shoes to be placed in.

"It isn't much, but it's home," Davey said, rolling the suitcase into the living room and turning on more lights.

"It's nice," Crutchie commented, walking in and taking a look around. He could see picture frames on top of the entertainment center; a family with three children, one daughter and two sons. Crutchie recognized the older boy as Davey, from when he was younger. They were all smiling brightly, seemingly happy in a way that Crutchie didn't understand.

"Oh, that's my family," Davey explained. "Mom, Dad, Sarah, and Les," he said, pointing in turn to each of the people in the picture.

"Do they live nearby?" Crutchie asked, curious.

"Yeah, just outside the city," Davey explained. "They actually used to live closer by, but had to move out when my dad lost his job."

"Your dad lost his job?" Crutchie asked, hoping he wasn't overstepping any boundaries with his questions.

"Yeah," Davey answered slowly. "Had an accident on the job and couldn't go back to work for a while so they let him go. He's found odd jobs to work, though, and Mom has a full-time job now so they get by."

"I'm sorry to hear about your dad," Crutchie said sincerely.

"It's okay, stuff like this happens," Davey said, shrugging. "Anyways, the couch pulls out into a bed, so you can take that. Hopefully it won't be too uncomfortable."

"Beats sleeping on the streets," Crutchie pointed out with a laugh.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Davey agreed. "And if you need anything, food or water, just get whatever you want from the kitchen, as long as you clean up after yourself."

"Sounds fair," Crutchie said. "Thanks again, Davey, this is a huge help."

"Hey, don't worry about it," Davey said. "Anything to help a friend of Jack's."

"You two known each other for very long?" Crutchie asked, suddenly curious.

"Yeah, a few years," Davey said. "I was working as a waiter when he got hired as a barista. It didn't take us long to become friends. It looks like it's the same way with you two. Jack just kinda finds people and decides he's gonna be their friend now and doesn't give up on that."

"Yeah, that's pretty much how it went," Crutchie said, thinking back on the past couple of months knowing Jack. Crutchie was more than happy to be his friend, but he hadn't expected the older man to be so adamant on the fact from the start. Every day Crutchie came in for lunch Jack would take his break and sit with him, talking and trying to get to know Crutchie a little more each day. Crutchie didn't mind it, in fact he enjoyed it. He tried to get to know Jack as well, but Jack was more hesitant to share any of his story, often letting Crutchie do the talking. It occurred to Crutchie that there was still a lot he didn't know about Jack. He hoped that would change, and someday soon. For whatever reason, he wanted to know more about him, he wanted to listen to Jack talk more, to get to share in his life. It was probably silly, but Crutchie wanted to be a part of his life. Whether Jack wanted that or not, however, was an entirely different question.

Davey nodded. "Well, it's getting late. I'll help set up your bed and then I gotta get some sleep. Sound good?"

"Sounds good," Crutchie agreed.

They set up the pull-out couch for Crutchie, Davey getting him extra blankets and pillows from a linen closet in the laundry room. Once they were done, Davey headed to his own room, quickly letting Crutchie know about the bathroom in his room and telling him to feel free to use it at any point. Crutchie nodded and Davey headed off to bed, leaving Crutchie alone in the room.

It was quiet, but it was peaceful. Crutchie settled into bed, pulling the covers up close to his head. It wasn't the most ideal situation, particularly with the stairs, but it was nice. Davey, he decided, was nice. His apartment was nice too, as was having a place to stay. Stairs or no stairs, he was grateful to Davey for offering a spot in his home. Crutchie went to sleep that night, feeling at peace.

He couldn't help but wonder if Jack went to bed at night feeling the same peace he felt in that moment.


	5. Chapter 5

"I'm heading out, don't wait up," Jack called, grabbing the doorknob and ready to head out into the cold.

"Where are you going?" his step dad called from the living room, looking up to acknowledge the coat and backpack Jack was wearing.

"Out," Jack clarified, not wanting to give away any more details.

"Out where?" the man pressed, the impatience in his tone clearly evident.

"Davey's, my manager's place," Jack explained, groaning with annoyance

"You're buddies with your manager now?" the man asked, interest piqued.

"Yeah, and if you ever paid attention you'd know I've been buddies with him for a while now," Jack grumbled. "I'm leaving now, goodbye."

"Hey, hold up!" the man called after him, stopping Jack halfway out the door. "I'm having Diane over tonight so don't come back early, you understand?"

"Don't worry, I won't interrupt whatever it is you two do when you're alone," Jack stated sardonically.

"Watch that attitude," the man snapped, pointing a threatening finger Jack's way.

"Yeah, yeah," Jack mumbled, finally heading out the door and closing it behind him.

It was a cold winter Sunday, one of the few days Jack got off work due to the shop being closed that day. He usually tried to spend his day off out of the apartment somewhere, whether it was with a friend at their place or just anywhere in the city. As long as it got him out of the house, Jack was happy with it.

Jack started the long trek to the bus stop, taking the first bus that would drive him as close to Davey's place as he could get. It was about an hour before Jack arrived at Davey's door, knocking a few times to let him know he arrived.

It wasn't Davey who answered the door, but Crutchie. "Hiya Jack," Crutchie said enthusiastically when he saw him.

"Hey Crutchie," Jack said, smiling. "Davey around?"

"Yeah, he's inside," Crutchie answered. "He said he was waiting for ya."

"Sweet," Jack said, stepping inside. "Hey, Davey, I'm here!"

"No need to shout I'm right here," Davey called from the living room. "You got the stuff?"

"Yeah, it's in my bag," Jack answered, setting his bag down on the kitchen counter.

"Uh, what stuff?" Crutchie asked, sounding a little worried.

Jack unzipped the bag, pulling out plastic bags full of what, Crutchie couldn't tell.

"Alright, we'se got popcorn, we'se got cookie butter, we'se got frozen dinners, and we'se got soda," Jack said. "What you got, Davey?"

"Well, I got us some fruit, and some nuts-"

"We'se gonna eat nuts?" Jack interrupted, trying not to laugh.

"Grow up, Jack," Davey snapped. "And I got some peanut butter to go with celery. You know, real food."

"Cookie butter is real food," Jack argued.

"Cookie butter isn't even real cookies or butter," Davey pointed out. "Let alone real food."

"Whatever, Davey. What movies did you get?" Jack asked.

"I got Titanic, Pride and Prejudice, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close-" Davey listed off.

"Hold up, hold up," Jack interrupted. "Those are all girly movies."

"I beg to differ," Davey argued. "Pride and Prejudice is for anyone and Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close is a serious movie about dealing with grief and loss. Titanic . . . yeah you're right it's a little girly."

"Well, I brought real movies," Jack said, pulling out another plastic bag full of movies. "I'se got the best of the best Marvel movies, that being Iron Man 3, Guardians of the Galaxy, and Avengers: Age of Ultron. I'se also got Power Rangers, and Pirates of the Caribbean."

"What's going on today?" Crutchie asked, still not following what the other two were doing.

"Movie day," Davey explained. "It's our day off, so we figured we'd have a fun day to relax."

"And in order to relax, we need good movies," Jack added, emphasizing the word good.

"Sounds fun, can I join?" Crutchie asked.

"Nah, we figured we'd just kick you out into the cold," Jack said jokingly.

"Ha ha, very funny," Crutchie said, laughing.

"Crutchie, since you're the guest how about you pick the movie?" Davey suggested.

"Hey, why am I not the guest?" Jack asked.

"Because you don't count as a guest anymore, you've past that point," Davey answered.

"How about Power Rangers?" Crutchie suggested, looking over the movies.

"Sounds good to me," Jack said, picking up the movie. "You guys bring the snacks, I'll set up the movie."

Crutchie immediately made a grab for the cookie butter, getting a spoon on his way out, while Davey grabbed his own snacks. Once the movie was set up, the three sat down on the couch, snacks in hand and ready to watch the movie.

It was a good time, watching movies with them, Crutchie realized. Jack had a bad habit of talking during movies, which Davey did not let slide in the least. Jack always seemed to need to make unnecessary comments, some of which were incredibly hilarious, though Davey seemed to disagree. Davey, on the other hand, was loud from munching on celery, a fact Jack was sure to bring up every few minutes. This devolved into an argument over who was the louder eater between the two, an argument that no one was going to win. Crutchie couldn't help but find it all enjoyable, though. He wasn't sure the last time he had just relaxed with friends like this. At least, he supposed he and Davey were friends now, having no question about the relationship between him and Jack.

However, during the whole movie Crutchie was keenly aware of how close he was to Jack. Their legs were just barely touching, and Crutchie consistently had to adjust his hands to keep one from brushing up against Jack's. It shouldn't have mattered, but for some reason Crutchie couldn't get the thought out of his head. He would often look over to see Jack's reaction to what was happening in the movie, and his heart would skip a beat at the smile Jack wore on his face. He looked so happy, why? Was it because of the movie, or because he was at Davey's? Or was it something else?

When the movie was over, they ended up picking out one of Davey's movies, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close. Jack was against it, but Crutchie convinced him by saying he was interested in seeing the movie. After barely five minutes in, however, they all realized this movie choice was a bad idea.

Davey was already crying, and following another five minutes so was Crutchie. It took a while longer, but eventually Jack was crying too. However, they made it through the movie, all agreeing to never speak of it or their reactions to it again. By this time, it was after two thirty in the afternoon and Davey decided to prepare them all some lunch.

"Hope you guys like sandwiches because that's all I got," Davey said from the kitchen.

"What about the food I brought?" Jack asked.

"That's for dinner," Davey said. "Unfortunately."

"You're staying till dinner, Jack?" Crutchie asked, trying not to let the happiness show in his voice.

"Yeah, assuming that's okay with you guys," Jack said.

"I'll kick you out when it gets too late," Davey said, joking.

The three enjoyed a lunch of ham and cheese sandwiches prepared by Davey, sitting around the kitchen table eating to their heart's content. Crutchie felt a little bad eating so much of Davey's food. He would have to go grocery shopping soon to repay for all of the food of Davey's he had eaten over the past few days since moving in with him.

"So, Davey," Jack began, gulping down some water to wash down his sandwich. "How's the family doing?"

"They're doing alright," Davey answered, taking a bite of his own sandwich. "Sarah's first semester of college went well I heard and she's back home now. Les is . . . still Les."

"Haven't seen him at the shop in a while," Jack noted.

"Yeah, it's been hard for my parents to come into the city often lately," Davey explained. "I think they're planning to stop by in a few days though."

"Are they staying the night?" Jack asked.

"Nah, they're just coming to the shop for early dinner when I'm off on break and then heading home afterwards," Davey said.

"Still, a little bit of time with them will be nice I suppose," Jack said.

"Yeah, it'll be great," Davey agreed. "How about you? How are things at home?"

The mood of the room seemed to shift. One moment things were comfortable and the next Crutchie could feel a certain tenseness in the air. He looked between Jack and Davey, waiting for one of them to speak up.

"There, uh, the usual," Jack answered, trying to sound casual.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Davey said sincerely.

"No, it's fine, it ain't nothing," Jack said quickly.

The room went silent, everyone suddenly becoming very focused on their food.

"You know, if you ever need a place to stay-" Davey started.

"Race and Spot already gave me an offer, but thanks, I appreciate it," Jack answered. "Besides, your spare bed is full."

Crutchie suddenly felt very awkward, and wished in that moment he could become small and disappear.

"Does he still have that same job?" Davey asked.

Jack nodded. "Diane is coming over tonight, so I was hoping I could stay here late."

"Yeah, that's not a problem," Davey said. "And if you need a ride home, just let me know."

"Thanks, sounds good," Jack said.

For the first time Crutchie got a peak into Jack's life. From the little he heard, it sounded tense, and unwelcoming. He wondered how he and Davey became so close that Jack was willing to open up and share like he did with him. Crutchie wondered if they would ever be that close that Jack would open up to him in the same way. He hoped they would, though if this conversation were any judge of Jack's life, Crutchie wasn't sure he wanted to know the rest. Whatever it was, it didn't sound happy.

The three finished their lunches and Jack and Crutchie helped Davey put away the dishes and wash them, taking extra pains to make sure they were as clean as can be for Davey's sake. When they were finished they went into the living room and decided to play cards. Sitting around the small coffee table, Davey dealt out a hand for the game Bull Shit, and the three started to play.

"Two fours," Crutchie said, putting his cards face down in the discard pile.

"Hmm," Jack hummed to himself. "One five."

"Bull shit," Davey said without a second thought.

"See for yourself," Jack said, lifting his card and showing the five of hearts.

"Damn," Davey muttered, taking all the cards from the discard pile and putting them into his hand.

"Language," Jack jokingly scolded him.

"We're playing a game called Bull Shit, I don't think language is an issue here," Davey grumbled.

"We probably should have picked a more appropriate game for the kid here," Jack said, indicating to Crutchie.

"Hey, I'm eighteen, I'm not a kid," Crutchie argued, feeling a little silly to have to even make that argument. Was that how Jack really saw him, as just a kid?

"Whatever you say, kid," Jack said. "Davey, it's your turn."

"Hold up, I need to organize all of these cards," Davey said, switching cards around in his hand.

"Any day now, Jacobs," Jack said impatiently.

"Shut up, Kelly," Davey warned him, placing three cards down on the table. "Three sixes."

"One seven," Crutchie said, laying his card down quickly.

"That was quick," Jack said, staring at Crutchie curiously. "Too quick."

"Are you going to call bull shit or not?" Davey asked, his turn to be impatient.

"Hmm, I think I'm going to let it slide this time," Jack said.

"You sure about that?" Crutchie asked, smiling a little mischievously.

Jack thought about it for a moment. "Yeah, I'm gonna let it slide. Two eights."

"Four nines," Davey said, laying down his cards.

"One ten, I'm out," Crutchie said, holding out his hands to show they were empty.

"Bull shit!" Jack called on him, reaching over to pick up the last card discarded. It was a ten of spades. "Dammit," Jack muttered, throwing his cards down on the table.

"Good game," Davey said, holding out his hand to shake Crutchie's. Crutchie took it, smiling broadly from ear to ear.

"Yeah, good game, Crutchie," Jack said holding out his own hand as well. As soon as Crutchie took it Jack pulled him close and wrapped his arm around his neck, giving Crutchie a noogie.

"Hey, stop that!" Crutchie laughed, trying to pull away.

"Make me, Morris," Jack ordered, laughing as well.

Crutchie tried to pull away for a couple more moments before shoving Jack with his full body force to the ground, landing on top of him.

"Oof," Jack breathed, the wind being knocked out of him. "Alright, you want to play rough, I can play rough."

With that, Jack pushed Crutchie off of him, grabbing him by the shoulders and pinning him to the floor. Crutchie tried to kick at him, but couldn't get a good reach with his leg. Instead, he switched up tactics and pulled his bad leg towards himself, making a pained expression on his face.

"Oh, shit man I'm sorry, are you okay?" Jack asked, immediately getting off of him.

Crutchie didn't wait a minute before grabbing Jack and throwing him back to the floor, pinning him down. "Hah!" Crutchie cried triumphantly.

"Oh, that's just dirty," Jack complained, trying to push Crutchie off of him but having little luck.

"Gotta play dirty if you want to win," Crutchie told him, grinning mischievously.

"Well, in that case," Jack said, suddenly kicking Crutchie in the good leg and knocking him over, rolling on top of him and pinning him down again. Crutchie tried to move, but Jack had his arms and legs pinned down beneath him, keeping him locked to the floor.

"I win," Jack said, his face only inches away from Crutchie's. Crutchie could feel his breath warm against his face, and for a moment Crutchie forgot how to breathe. Jack's face was so close to his own, it took all of Crutchie's willpower just to stay still. His lips were so close to his, if only. . .

No, why was he thinking about that? He didn't like Jack, certainly not. They were just friends, right?

Right?

Jack released him a moment later, getting up off the floor and helping Crutchie to his feet as well.

"You two realize I have neighbors below me, right?" Davey asked, an exasperated expression on his face.

"What, you wanna go next?" Jack asked, joking.

"I can kick your ass and you know it," Davey warned him.

"Let's go, then, right here, right now," Jack challenged.

"Like I said, I have neighbors and they're going to worry if they keep hearing bodies slammed against the floor," Davey explained.

"Wuss," Jack muttered.

The three went back to playing their card game, going for a few more rounds before Jack planted himself on the couch, claiming he needed to take a nap. Davey and Crutchie didn't argue, letting him take the couch and eventually falling asleep. Davey decided to teach Crutchie another card game called Speed, which Crutchie was more than happy to learn.

"So, does Jack crash over here often?" Crutchie asked as Davey dealt the cards.

"Yeah, almost every Sunday," Davey explained, handing a pile of five cards to Crutchie. "And on the Sundays he doesn't he's usually over at Spot and Race's place."

"Why is that?" Crutchie asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

Davey looked over at Jack, as if to make sure he was asleep. "I don't think home is a great place for him," he admitted.

"Because of his step dad?" Crutchie guessed.

"Yeah, the guy's a real piece of work, I hear," Davey explained.

"He ain't like, bad, is he?" Crutchie asked, concern in his voice.

"Nah, I don't think so," Davey answered. "Just kind of an asshole, I think. Jack's never mentioned him doing anything bad, but then again if he was doing anything I don't think Jack would even say. He likes to keep stuff to himself, you know?"

"Yeah, I caught on to that," Crutchie said.

"I don't think there's anything for you to worry about, though," Davey said. "Jack's old enough to take care of himself, anyways, I'm sure. Or at least old enough to know to ask for help if he ever needed it."

"Yeah, yeah, you're right," Crutchie agreed.

"Anyways, let's get started?" Davey suggested.

"Yeah," Crutchie said, looking over his hand.

As the two played, neither one noticed Jack's stirring on the couch, nor could they see the way his eyes darted back and forth underneath his eyelids.


	6. Chapter 6

"Get in loser, we'se going partying," Race called from the front seat of Spot's car.

"I'se coming, I'se coming," Jack muttered, getting into the backseat. "Don't forget to stop at Davey's place."

"I know, Kelly," Spot said, pulling out of the parking spot in front of Jack's apartment and heading back onto the road.

"Why are we picking up Crutchie, anyways?" Race asked. "Can't he just ride with Davey?"

"Yeah, but he's my guest and Davey has to go pick up Sarah from his parent's home," Jack explained.

"Aw, Jack's gotta be all romantic and pick up his date personally," Race joked in a sweet tone.

"It ain't a date!" Jack snapped. "We'se just going to the party together, is all."

"Sounds like a date to me," Spot said, eyes fixed on the road.

"No need to be modest, Jack," Race said. "I'se sure Crutchie wants it to be a date too."

"Crutchie totally doesn't think of me that way," Jack argued. "And I don't think of him that way, neither."

"C'mon, you can't lie to yourself forever," Race groaned. "I know you'se been skipping out on staying at our place on Sundays so you can go over to Davey's and see Crutchie."

"That ain't true," Jack said quickly. "It's only been two Sundays, anyways."

"Well how about the fact that you take every break to spend time with him?" Race pointed out. "And he's always at the shop to see you, too."

"We'se just good friends, that's all," Jack stated.

"You two are as much 'just friends' as Spot and me," Race argued. "Admit it, you like him, and you want to make a move tonight."

"I don't and I don't," Jack pressed. "Spot, you can't seriously be buying any of this?"

"I don't know, Kelly, you two have become awfully close pretty fast," Spot pointed out.

"You are no help whatsoever," Jack grumbled.

"I just call it like I see it," Spot said.

"And we'se see it like this," Race put in. "You like Crutchie, and Crutchie likes you. Now, if only the two of you would realize that and accept your feelings, you can be together."

"Even if we did like each other we couldn't be together," Jack argued. "Do you realize how much the Spider would freak? He'd lose his shit if he knew I liked a guy."

"The Spider can suck it up," Race told him. "You'se a grown ass man, and it's time your step dad realized that. You ain't no kid anymore. You'se old enough to make your own decisions."

"Yeah, try telling him that," Jack muttered.

"I'll tell him for you if you like," Spot offered.

"Thanks, but that's a bridge I ain't ready to cross yet," Jack said.

"So, you admit it! You do like Crutchie!" Race cried.

"Aw, dammit, I don't!" Jack groaned.

"He admitted it, didn't he?" Race asked Spot.

"Sounds like it to me," Spot agreed.

"You two are a bunch of idiots, you know that?" Jack told them.

"But we'se your idiots, Jack," Race said with a smile.

"Make up your mind of what you're going to do about it, Kelly, cause we'se here," Spot said, pulling up in front of Davey's apartment building.

Jack immediately got out of the car, going up the stairs to knock on Davey's door. It took only a few seconds for Crutchie to answer it, and when he did Jack had to catch his breath.

He was wearing a blue sweater that looked far too big for him, along with a thick coat over it, as well as a grey scarf covering his neck and a wool hat over his head. Jack wasn't sure why, but he couldn't get over how well he felt the outfit suited him. "Hiya Jack," Crutchie said, as he always did when seeing him.

"Hey, Crutchie," Jack responded, feeling his ears turning pink. "You ready to go?"

"Ready," Crutchie said, leaving the apartment and locking the door behind him. They made their way down the stairs, slowly for Crutchie's sake, and Jack couldn't help but wonder at how well the kid did with stairs, despite his crutch. He must have gotten used to them over the years, especially lately having to use the stairs every day to get in and out of the apartment. Crutchie took them slowly, but surely, not missing a beat or slipping in the slightest. Jack was undeniably impressed.

"Hiya fellas," Crutchie said when he got into the backseat of Spot's car.

"Hey, Crutchie," Race greeted, Spot just giving him a simple nod.

"Alright, let's head out," Jack said, getting in the car after Crutchie. And with that, Spot drove off, heading towards the coffee shop.

They arrived a few minutes late, knocking on the door and being let into the shop by Katherine, who greeted them with a warm smile.

"Hello, boys," she said, holding the door open for them. "You're late."

"By what, ten minutes?" Jack stated, looking at the watch on his phone.

"Late is late," Katherine said. "Now come inside and get some nice hot coffee before we run out."

The four entered the shop, taking off their coats when they entered the warm room and hanging them up on the coat rack by the door. The shop was decorated festively, with lights hanging everywhere and a Christmas tree in the back corner. There was music playing softly in the background, and a sweet smell of peppermint in the air.

"Hey, Jack's here!" Romeo called from within the shop. "Now the party can really begin."

"The party would go just fine without him I'm sure," a sour voice said from beside Davey.

"Good to see you too, Sarah," Jack said, trying to give her a pleasant smile.

"I didn't say anything about it being good to see you," Sarah stated, giving him a cold look.

Crutchie felt his chest tighten. Did Jack know Davey's sister? And why didn't they get along? Was the party going to be awkward now with these two together?

"No, but you were thinking it," Jack said confidently, which Sarah scowled at.

The two stared each other down for a few seconds, and for the briefest of moments Crutchie feared one of them was going to slap the other. Then, the unexpected happened. Jack stepped forward, holding out his arms, and Sarah embraced him in a hug.

"It really is good to see you," Jack said sincerely, still holding her against him.

"You too, asshole," Sarah said, a smile now playing across her face.

Crutchie felt himself relax, glad to see that the two of them didn't actually hate each other. Though he couldn't help but wonder what the story was behind there. What sort of history did they have? Were they together at some point? Were they together now? No, they couldn't be; Jack or Davey would have said something if they were.

Jack pulled away first, turning back to Crutchie. "Hey, Crutchie, this is Sarah, Davey's sister. Sarah, this is my buddy Crutchie."

"It's nice to meet you," Sarah said politely, extending a hand to shake.

Crutchie reached out his hand in return. "Nice to meet you too," Crutchie said in return.

"And let me introduce you to everyone else," Jack said. "We'se got Davey and Katherine, whom you already know. Over here is Romeo and Specs."

Romeo did an over exaggerated bow while Specs tipped his hat.

"We'se got Tommy and Finch, they work in the kitchen," Jack explained. "Blink and Mush, Albert and Elmer, and Buttons and Henry."

"You'se that kid always ordering too much coffee," Elmer said, looking Crutchie over.

"What can I say, you guys got good coffee," Crutchie admitted.

"And there's plenty to go around, so get your fill tonight boys," Katherine said. "And lady," she added, smiling at Sarah.

Crutchie wasn't sure, but he thought he saw Sarah blush ever so slightly.

Coffee and snacks were passed around, filling the air with the scent of espresso and sugar. The coffee was drip, so in Crutchie's opinion it wasn't strong enough, but it was good all the same. The desserts were plentiful, and on a number of occasions Katherine had to stop the younger employees, that being Romeo, Albert, and Elmer, from eating too much sweets.

"But it's Christmas," Romeo complained, taking another swig of his coffee.

"Technically, it's not Christmas for another week," Katherine pointed out. "And we have work tomorrow and I need you alive in the morning."

"I'm going to head to the bathroom," Crutchie said to Jack, putting his cup down on a table and heading towards the back of the shop.

"So, Kelly," Spot said, coming up to him. "Gonna make your move tonight?"

"Shut up, Conlon," Jack muttered, taking a sip of his coffee.

"It's now or never," Race put in, stepping up beside Jack. "What better time to confess your love then at a festive party?"

"We ain't in love, we'se just friends," Jack said, exasperated.

"Who's in love?" Katherine asked, coming up to them.

"Did someone say something about love?" Romeo asked, overhearing.

Suddenly everyone in the shop was crowding around Jack, all talking over each other loudly about who was in love with Jack and what they should do about it.

"I ain't in love with no one," Jack complained, shushing everyone around him.

"It's Crutchie, ain't it?" Specs piped up. "It's definitely Crutchie."

"No, it's the Pope, of course it's Crutchie," Albert said. "You two are always together, it ain't hard to see."

"Would you guys shut up, he's in the next room," Jack hissed.

"So, it's true!" Katherine exclaimed. "I knew it!"

"No, it ain't," Jack snapped.

"When you two get married, can I be your best man?" Elmer asked.

"That's Davey's job, ya nitwit," Albert said, roughly ruffling Elmer's hair.

"No one's getting married," Jack told them sternly.

"Except you," Romeo said, winking at Jack.

"Guys, hush up, he's coming," Davey hissed.

Crutchie stepped out of the bathroom, and everyone immediately grew quiet, all eyes on him

Crutchie stared blankly back at everyone, blinking. "What?" he asked, wondering if he had something on his face or toilet paper stuck to his shoe.

"Nothing," everyone said in unison.

"So, Crutchie," Specs said, making his way over to him. "You gotta girlfriend at school?"

"Uh, no," Crutchie answered, looking at Specs confusedly.

"A boyfriend?" Specs pressed.

"N-no," Crutchie responded, feeling his cheeks start to warm.

"Well why not? A catch like you'se gotta have girls and guys all over him," Specs stated, clapping his hand on Crutchie's shoulder.

Crutchie blushed. "I don't talk to too many people at school," he admitted.

"Why's that?" Romeo asked. "You got no problem talking to Jack and the rest of us."

"I don't know, it's different," Crutchie said, shrugging his shoulders.

"Alright, alright, don't crowd the man," Jack said, stepping in and handing Crutchie his coffee.

"What? We'se just trying to get to know the guest here," Romeo complained.

"Yeah, and we all already know Sarah," Elmer put in. "We'se kind of bored of her now."

"I'm not bored of her," Katherine said indignantly, and this time Crutchie was certain he saw Sarah blush.

"Hey guys, shut up for a minute and check this out!" Finch cried. "It's snowing out there!"

Everyone stopped what they were doing and rushed to the doors, peering outside. Snow flurries had just started to fall, decorating the world outside in a shimmering cloud of white.

"Whoa, look at that!" Buttons said in amazement.

"It's like it's raining," Henry exclaimed.

"That's because it is raining, you idiot," Tommy retorted.

"Actually, it's frozen rain so it's not quite the same thing," Mush pointed out.

"Alright, Davey, no need to be a smartass," Blink grumbled, shoving Mush lightly.

"Hey, don't bring me into this," Davey snapped.

The boys erupted into an argument, bickering over whether snow was considered rain or not. Crutchie stepped away from the group, instead walking over to the doors to the courtyard and stepping outside.

The air was brisk, and there was a slight breeze blowing. The snow was falling steadily now, coating everything outside in slick sparkles of ice. Crutchie stared up at the sky, watching the snow fall serenely around him. The world was quiet, peaceful. It was the first snow of the year, which to Crutchie always felt magical somehow. It was a perfect night for it.

"Hey, what are you doing out here?" Jack asked, stepping outside to join him.

"Oh, nothing, just watching the snow I guess," Crutchie answered, looking down at his feet sheepishly. He didn't want to admit that he was getting a little crowded inside.

"Sorry, they'se kinda overwhelming at times," Jack apologized. "Always in your face, gotta be asking ten million questions. It gets tiring, I know."

"No, they'se great," Crutchie said. "But, it might be a little overbearing, yeah."

"You'se gonna catch a cold without your coat," Jack commented, looking at Crutchie's small form. He might have been in a sweater, but that alone wasn't going to be enough to block out the wind and snow.

"I'se alright, it's just a few minutes," Crutchie assured him.

Jack shrugged. "Suit yourself," he said, but instinctively wrapped an arm around the smaller young man's shoulders.

Crutchie nearly jumped at the sudden contact, surprised and all too pleased by it. Jack was warm and smelled of coffee and something else, something chemical? Almost like paint. Crutchie wondered why he would smell like that, but didn't make any moves to question it.

"It's beautiful," Jack breathed, watching the sky.

"Yeah," Crutchie agreed, looking at Jack. "Beautiful."

They stayed still like that for several moments, both watching the sky as the snow fell, covering them both in a thin layer of snowflakes.

"You know, I always thought a first snowfall was somehow special," Crutchie suddenly said. "Like some sort of magic. I don't know, it always seemed to me like nothing could go wrong when it snows for the first time, like for the briefest of moments the world is perfect."

Crutchie looked up at Jack, who was staring down at him.

"I know, that sounds pretty silly," Crutchie added quickly.

"No, I like that," Jack said. "It's a nice way of looking at things, I think."

Crutchie smiled, feeling his cheeks grow warm again. Somehow, it was impossible not to want to smile around Jack. Crutchie wasn't sure what it was, but his presence was almost soothing somehow. Like everything would be alright as long as he was around him.

Like a first snow of the season.

Jack looked back at Crutchie. "What are you grinning about?" he asked.

Crutchie immediately looked away. "Nothing," he muttered, becoming incredibly occupied with his shoes.

"No, that ain't nothing," Jack said. "Come on, tell me, what is it?"

"It's n-nothing, I swear," Crutchie stuttered, feeling very bashful now.

Jack grinned mischievously. "Are you sure?" he asked. "Guess I'm just gonna have to wriggle it out of you!" And with that, Jack grabbed Crutchie by the sides and lifted him up, spinning him around in the air, his crutch clanking to the ground.

Crutchie squealed, a high-pitched laugh escaping him. "Put me down, put me down!" he complained, though the smile was clearly evident on his face.

"Not until you tell me what you'se grinning about," Jack said, still spinning him.

"Alright, alright, I'll tell ya, just put me down!" Crutchie cried, tears forming in his eyes from laughing so hard.

Jack relented and set him back down, picking up his crutch and handing it to him.

"Thank you," Crutchie said. "And for your information, I was grinning because of you."

Jack stopped, pausing for a moment. "Because of me?" he asked, perplexed. "Why?"

"Because you looked happy," Crutchie answered. "And I thought that was pretty neat."

"Pretty neat, huh?" Jack asked.

"Yeah, you'se pretty neat, Jack Kelly," Crutchie said, smiling up at him.

Jack grinned. "You'se pretty neat, too, Crutchie Morris."

Neither of them noticed the group of guys and ladies all smashed against the doors and windows, watching with intent the two young men outside. They were too busy watching each other as snow steadily fell around them.

There was something magical about a first snow, indeed.


	7. Chapter 7

Crutchie woke with a start, the feeling of something vibrating against his hand. He looked down at his phone, clicking it open.

[One New Message]

[Jack K: Merry Christmas!]

Crutchie smiled at his phone, quickly typing a reply.

[Crutchie: Merry Christmas to ya!]

"Oh, I see you're finally awake," Davey said from the kitchen, the sounds of plates clanking together alerting Crutchie of his whereabouts.

"What time is it?" Crutchie asked, mostly to himself as he looked at the clock on his phone. The time read 10:23am.

"You slept in late," Davey noted. "Too much eggnog last night?"

"Something like that," Crutchie said, stretching.

The night before had been amazing. Jack, Race, and Spot had all come over to watch bad Christmas movies and drink eggnog as way of celebration for Christmas the next day. It was a long night, but a good time. They all had decided not to do presents, as none of them were really in the market for affording multiple gifts for various people, so instead they celebrated with sweets and enough eggnog to knock a person out. Jack had complained that it wasn't spiked, but Davey wouldn't allow it, since only he and Spot were actually of drinking age, Jack only being twenty, and Race nineteen. Crutchie didn't mind, though. He found that eggnog on its own had a strong enough flavor, and always did the trick of making him giddy until he fell asleep.

Jack had smiled so brightly when he saw him last night, Crutchie thought. Was there a reason for his excitement or was that just him being his normal self? Jack was a decently happy person, and smiled often, but there was something different about that smile he gave him. Something deeper. Crutchie didn't want to dwell on it, in case his intuition was wrong, but he couldn't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, Jack smiled so brightly for his sake.

"Want some breakfast?" Davey asked as Crutchie entered the kitchen.

Crutchie nodded. "What do ya got?"

"Cinnamon rolls," Davey answered, pulling out plates from the cabinet. He loaded Crutchie's plate with four cinnamon rolls, giving him the center piece, and then loading the last four onto his own plate.

"Happy Hanukkah," Crutchie said for him as Davey placed the plate in front of him at the table.

"Merry Christmas," Davey said for him in return, taking his seat across from Crutchie.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, Crutchie's phone occasionally buzzing and him stopping his eating to check the messages.

"Is that Jack?" Davey asked knowingly.

Crutchie tried to suppress a grin. "Maybe," he said.

Davey nodded. "What do you think of Jack?" he asked conversationally, taking a bite of one of his cinnamon rolls.

Crutchie shrugged. "He's nice, a good friend," he answered noncommittally.

"But?" Davey asked, sensing there was something more there.

"But what?" Crutchie asked innocently.

"You're not saying something," Davey pointed out.

"Wow, these cinnamon rolls sure are good," Crutchie said, taking a bite. "Mmm, are they homemade?"

"Out of a can," Davey answered.

"Still, you prepared them well," Crutchie said.

"Don't answer if you don't want to, but I know there's something you aren't saying," Davey stated, returning to their conversation.

"How do you normally spend the holidays?" Crutchie asked, dodging Davey's question once again.

Davey shrugged. "Hanukkah isn't as big of a deal as far as holidays go, so we usually just get together and make a lot of food."

"That sounds like a good time, though," Crutchie said.

"Yeah, it's great. Except my mom always gets stressed when she has to do a lot of cooking, so usually Sarah and I help her out," Davey explained.

Crutchie nodded in understanding.

"What about you?" Davey asked. "What do you normally do on the holidays?"

Crutchie shrugged. "Not much," he admitted. "It would always vary depending on where I was and what sort of family I was with. One year I spent it with my granddad, which wasn't so bad, but I've never done anything too exciting for Christmas."

"Got any plans for this year?" Davey asked.

"Yeah! My granddad actually wants me to come by and see him tomorrow. I'se gotta get a cab but he said he would pay me back for it."

"That's great, Crutchie!" Davey exclaimed. "When's the last time you saw him?"

"Summer," Crutchie said. "He came for my graduation."

"I'm glad you get to see him again," Davey said sincerely.

"Me too," Crutchie replied.

They continued to eat their breakfast in silence. Davey couldn't help but wonder what kind of life Crutchie must have had before coming to school, but was in no way ready to ask him for details. That seemed too personal for him to ask, especially since he wasn't sure if they were actually friend or just acquaintances. Davey liked to think they were friends, but he couldn't be sure and he certainly wasn't going to assume in case he was wrong.

Just then, Davey's phone started buzzing. "Sorry, one second," Davey said, pulling out his phone and looking at the caller ID.

It was Jack.

"I gotta take this," he said, answering the phone. "Hello? What's up, Jack? Whoa, slow down. What's going on?" he paused, listening. "Sure, if it isn't too far to walk in the snow. Yeah, Crutchie and I are just having breakfast. Alright, see you in a few." Davey ended the call.

"What's going on?" Crutchie asked, concerned.

"Oh, Jack's coming over," Davey explained.

"Oh, cool!" Crutchie said excitedly. "Any reason why?"

"Eh, I think his apartment is just a little too crowded this morning," Davey answered, poking at his cinnamon rolls with his fork.

Crutchie wasn't sure what that meant, but he didn't question it.

Once they were both finished with their breakfast, Davey took up their plates and set them in the sink to be washed. He then opened the fridge and pulled out another thing of cinnamon rolls and began to prepare them, saying Jack would more than likely be hungry.

By the time the cinnamon rolls were ready, there was a knock on the door. "I'll get it," Crutchie said. "Hiya, Jack," Crutchie greeted when he answered the door.

"Hey, kid," Jack said, patting Crutchie on the head. Crutchie moved out of the way and allowed Jack to step inside. "It's a cold one, today," he noted, taking off his coat and hanging it on Davey's coat rack.

"That's Christmas in New York for you," Davey commented, putting cinnamon rolls on a plate. "Thought you might be hungry," he said, handing the plate to Jack.

"I'm starved," Jack said, taking the plate gratefully and cramming the first cinnamon roll into his mouth.

"What brings you here today?" Crutchie asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

"Home's too crowded," Jack answered, mouth full of cinnamon roll.

"Did he bring her over?" Davey asked, rolling his eyes.

"No, you wanna know the best part?" Jack asked, clearing his throat. "He brought her over last night, keeping me awake till four in the morning. Then when I got up this morning he announces that she's gonna be spending all of Christmas with us. That's when I had to get out of there, no way was I hanging out those two for another second."

"Who?" Crutchie asked, confused.

"My step dad and his boss," Jack explained. "They'se been seeing each other for the past several months now. Though I don't know why. Neither of them are attractive, my step dad doesn't have anything going for him, it's not like either of them are decent people."

"Ugliness attracts to itself," Davey stated.

"That's gotta be it," Jack said. "Cause they sure as hell don't have anything else special about them."

"They can't be that bad, can they?" Crutchie asked.

"I'se pretty sure that woman has said one word to me, and it wasn't a nice word neither," Jack said. "And Snyder sure as hell ain't no easy breeze."

"I'm telling you, you really need to take up Spot and Race's offer and move in with them," Davey said. "It would probably make things better between you two if you weren't living together."

"As soon as I move out I ain't never speaking to him again," Jack said. "But I can't move out yet cause as soon as I do he's gonna stop paying for my college."

"I thought you used your mother's funds for school?" Davey asked.

"I use all I can, but that don't cover everything," Jack said. "He's paying for the rest that I can't afford on my own."

"I don't understand why you don't just drop out," Davey said. "It's not like you're studying something you like, anyways."

"A degree in something terrible is better than no degree at all," Jack stated. "I gotta get out of this place as soon as I graduate and make a living, and in order to do that I need a degree."

"You're still going on about moving out west?" Davey questioned.

"Come on, Davey, I can't be stuck in this city forever," Jack complained. "If I have to stay here much longer I'se gonna lose it."

"What's so bad about New York?" Crutchie asked, feeling a little hurt. He had lived in this city all his life and felt very deeply about it; he couldn't understand why someone would want to leave.

"It's too crowded," Jack stated. "And the air isn't clean, and you can't see the sky at night, not properly at least. It just ain't the place for me."

"He's been saying this for as long as I've known him," Davey explained. "And still hasn't gotten any closer to leaving, so don't worry about it too much."

"But I am going to leave, someday soon too," Jack said. "I just . . . need to get through college first."

"If you don't want to study law, what do you want to study?" Crutchie asked.

"I don't know, just anything but that," he answered.

"Why don't you just take out loans?" Davey asked. "That way you can study what you want and just worry about paying school off later once you've moved out west and found a good job?"

"I ain't putting myself in debt," Jack said. "Not for nothing."

"It was just a suggestion," Davey mumbled.

"Look guys, I'se fine, alright, I'se just stuck is all," Jack told them. "It ain't nothing to worry about. I'll keep things the way they are for the next two years and just deal with the crap until then. It ain't the end of the world."

"Whatever you say, Jack," Davey grumbled. "But don't come crying to me when you get a degree in something you hate and can't find a job in a field you like because of it."

"I'll be alright," Jack said. "You don't need to worry about me."

Davey wanted to respond, but didn't, instead closing his mouth tightly and going to wash the dishes quietly.

Jack sat down at the table, finishing his cinnamon rolls. Crutchie sat across from him, watching him eat. He couldn't keep from thinking about the conversation that just passed. Did Jack really hate New York so much? And was his step dad really such an unbearable guy? It sounded like he had options to make his life better but he wasn't taking any of them, why? Maybe there was something he wasn't telling them, something keeping him from moving out. Whatever it was, it had Crutchie worried, but he knew he couldn't say anything. Judging by the way Jack talked about it, it wasn't something open for discussion.

Just then, Crutchie's phone rang. "Hello?" he said, answering it. "Oh, hiya Gramps. No, I'm at a friend's house." He paused. "About tomorrow? Yeah, I'se got the money for a cab, and I'll-" he paused again. "Oh, that's okay. Maybe next time, huh? Yeah, it's alright. Yeah, I'll talk to you later. Bye, Gramps."

Crutchie hung up the phone, a dejected look on his face.

"What's wrong?" Jack asked, noting Crutchie's expression.

"Huh? Oh, nothing," Crutchie said, quickly smiling. "I was supposed to see my granddad tomorrow, but something came up and he had to cancel is all."

"That's awfully sudden, is everything alright?" Davey asked.

"Yeah, everything's fine," Crutchie said. "I think he just got busy or something."

Jack stared at him, uncertain. There was something Crutchie wasn't saying, but Jack decided not to press it. Davey sensed it too, but followed Jack's lead and didn't press for answers.

"Well, I guess you'll just have to spend the rest of your holidays with us," Jack said, smiling warmly at him.

Crutchie smiled back. "That ain't so bad," he decided.

"Yeah, just as long as you two help me clean up any messes you make," Davey said, finishing up with the dishes.

"Yes, sir," the two of them said in unison.

The rest of their day was spent watching movies and cooking food that Davey insisted was a necessity. It wasn't the holiday any of them expected to have, but it was a good one all the same. Crutchie decided that as long as he was with Jack, a day couldn't be so bad, no matter what might have happened or what disappointments they met. It was going to be a good day, Crutchie was certain of it.

And he was right.


	8. Chapter 8

Christmas break came and went, and just like that, Crutchie was moving back into his dorm on campus. He hadn't wanted to leave Davey's place, but he knew asking to stay would be asking for too much. So, he moved back on campus, giving Davey numerous thanks and promising to make it up to him somehow. Davey, of course, told him not to worry about it, but Crutchie wouldn't hear it. He was going to make it up to him, he just needed to figure out how and when.

It was the first morning of classes, and Crutchie luckily didn't have any until the early afternoon, so he decided to make his way to his favorite coffee shop on that early morning.

"Welcome to Jacobi's," Race called as the door swung open with a ring of the bell. "Oh, good morning, Crutchie. What brings you here so early on a school day?"

Crutchie walked up to the counter and set his things down on the floor, taking his seat. "Thought I'd stop by for some coffee," Crutchie explained. "Where's Jack?"

"In the back, he'll be out in a minute," Race explained, suppressing a yawn. "I tell ya, Crutchie, it's too early to be working."

"Really, I feel wide awake," Crutchie said, practically bouncing in his seat.

"Well, good for you," Race grumbled. "What's got you so excited?"

"Just looking forward to classes, I suppose," Crutchie answered.

"Alright, well what can I getcha this morning?" Race asked, leaning forward on the counter.

"Hmm, the usual," Crutchie said. "But five sugars this time."

"Whoa, someone's losing their mind," Race joked, writing down the drink order on a cup. "Hey Jack!" he called. "Get back in here, we'se got customers!"

"I'se coming, I'se coming," Jack called back, entering the shop from the back. "Well well, if it ain't our very own star, Crutchie Morris."

Crutchie couldn't help but grin. "Shut up," he mumbled, feeling his cheeks grow warm.

"Who's a star?" Race asked, confused.

"Today is the big day, ain't it?" Jack asked. "You'se got auditions today, right?"

Crutchie nodded with excitement. "Yeah, tonight," he clarified.

"What show are you auditioning for?" Jack asked, curious.

"It's a general audition for all the shows they'se putting on this semester," Crutchie explained. "So, I just gotta go in, sing a bit of a song and do a monologue and they'll post callbacks tomorrow."

"Do you think you can actually get a role?" Race asked, handing Crutchie's cup to Jack for him to get started.

"Course he can, why wouldn't he?" Jack asked, taking the cup and beginning to fix Crutchie's drink.

"I don't know, do freshman normally get roles?" Race pointed out.

"Last semester two freshman got leads," Crutchie explained. "It's possible, you just gotta be real good."

"And? Are you any good?" Race asked, raising an eyebrow.

Crutchie shrugged. "Guess we'll find out tomorrow if I get a callback or not."

"I believe in you, kid," Jack said, reaching over the counter to ruffle Crutchie's hair. "Break all the legs for me, alright?"

Crutchie smiled. "Can do!"

* * *

"Check," Race beamed, moving his rook in line with Spot's king.

Spot scowled down at the table, looking over his pieces, calculating his next move in his mind. Wordlessly, he moved his knight to take Race's rook.

"Dammit," Race breathed. "How did I not see that?"

"You ain't paying attention, that's how," Spot commented, taking Race's piece off the table and discarding it in the drawer underneath the tabletop.

"Well how am I supposed to pay attention with you smirking at me like that?" Race pointed out. "You know I'se weak to smirks."

"You gotta learn to keep your eyes on the prize," Spot said. "How is it you'se so good at gambling but can't win a single game of chess?"

"I ain't never gambled against you," Race pointed out. "I'se telling ya, you'se my kryptonite."

"Sounds like a personal problem to me," Spot said. "Your move."

Race looked down at the table, thinking hard.

"You know, if you utilized your pawns more-" Spot started.

"I know, I know," Race interrupted him. He moved a pawn two spaces forward.

Spot took Race's pawn with his bishop, smirking again.

"Dammit!" Race cried, glaring down at the table.

"Language," Katherine snapped, coming up to the two of them. "Race, your break is almost over, so hurry this game along or forfeit."

"I would, but Spot is a dirty little cheater," Race complained, glaring up at him.

"You're complaining about cheating, Mr. hides-cards-up-his-sleeve?" Katherine asked, rolling her eyes at him.

"At least I cheat properly," Race stated. "Spot just sits there looking handsome to distract me from my goal. It ain't fair!"

"Aw, well maybe don't fall so hard in love next time," Katherine said in a sweet voice.

Spot just continued to smirk, looking mighty pleased with himself.

The door of the coffee shop swung open, and the sound of mismatched footsteps could be heard coming inside. Crutchie made his way to sit on the red leather couch in the corner, a spot he had neglected for the counter seats over the past few weeks, but now returned to in a glum state.

"Hey, Crutchie's here," Race said, getting up from his seat to go greet his friend. "Heya, kid," Race said, coming up to Crutchie. "How's it going?"

Crutchie looked up at him, taking a moment to register who was speaking. "Oh, hi Race," he said, a forced smile on his face. "It's going alright. How about yourself?"

"Doing alright," Race responded. "What's with the down look?"

"Huh?" Crutchie asked. "Oh, it's nothing. I'se alright."

Race found that hard to believe. "Hey, look, my break is almost over, but if you need to talk about something Jack and I are here, alright?"

Crutchie nodded. "I hear ya."

Race gave him a nod and headed back behind the counter, quickly whispering something to Jack. Jack looked up from his work and saw Crutchie sitting in the corner, looking dejected.

Jack frowned. Something was wrong, but what? Whatever it was, Jack wasn't going to sit around and let it fester. He began working on a new drink order, taking extra care to make it perfect.

Crutchie pulled out one of his textbooks, reading over the new material carefully. A few minutes passed like this, until suddenly a cup plopped down on the table next to him.

Crutchie looked up, seeing Jack standing in front of him. "One hot cup of French-pressed light roast with five sugars today," Jack said, smiling down at him. "On the house."

Crutchie grinned. "Thanks, Jack," he said, taking a sip of the coffee.

"Race says you ain't doing too well," Jack remarked, taking a seat next to him on the couch.

"I'se fine," Crutchie assured him. "In fact, I'se doing great."

"Then why don't you look it?" Jack asked, confused.

"Jack, shouldn't you be working?" Crutchie pointed out, looking around at the busy shop.

"Race and Albert can handle things on their own for a little while," Jack said. "Tell me what's got you looking down."

"It's nothing, I'se probably just overthinking things," Crutchie mumbled, looking down at his coffee.

"Overthinking what?" Jack asked, not following him.

"I-I got the part," Crutchie stammered, a small smile playing across his face.

"You what? That's amazing, congratulations!" Jack cheered. "I knew you could do it!"

"Yeah, but that's just the thing, I don't know if I really did it or not," Crutchie mumbled, taking another sip of his coffee.

"What do you mean?" Jack asked. "You got the part, how could you not have done it?"

"It's just the part I got," Crutchie explained. "I don't know why they gave it to me."

"Maybe because you'se talented," Jack said, shoving him lightly. "What part did you get?"

"I got the lead in a musical," Crutchie said, the smile returning to his face. "I didn't expect to get a part, let alone the lead."

Jack stared at him in awe. "Crutchie, that's incredible," Jack breathed. "What musical?"

"The Hunchback of Notre Dame," Crutchie said, grinning from ear to ear now. "I'm playing Quasimodo."

Jack blinked. "You mean like that old Disney movie?" he asked.

"Sort of, it's a bit different than the movie," Crutchie explained. "You should see it, though. The music is incredible, and there's dancing, and singing, and they'se gonna have live music for it and a choir singing in it. It's gonna be amazing."

"So, then what's the problem?" Jack asked, still not following.

Crutchie's smile faltered. "I think . . . I think they gave me the role out of pity," Crutchie started, once again looking down at his coffee. "Cause the character is disabled in a way, and so am I. I think they'se just trying to make a statement rather than casting me on my skill."

Jack frowned. "Crutchie, you ain't disabled-" he started.

"Yes, I am," Crutchie said. "And there ain't nothing wrong with that word. It's just a fact. But, I don't want to be cast as something because it's gonna give the theatre a good rep. I wanna be cast because I earned the role, you know?"

"I hear ya," Jack said. "So, what if they did? What if they cast you as that role because you'se disabled, and they want to make themselves look good because of it. That just means you gotta prove you earned that role. You gotta kill it. You gotta work harder than you'se ever worked before and show them that you deserve it. You hear me?"

"Yeah, I hear ya," Crutchie said. "But what if I can't do it? What if the choreography is too hard and I can't keep up?"

"They ain't gonna make choreography that their star can't do," Jack told him. "You wanted to be an actor, so here's your chance to prove you'se got the stuff. I don't want to hear none of this 'I can't do it' bull shit. You can, and you will."

Crutchie nodded. "Alright," he said, taking another sip of coffee. "But you gotta be there. On opening night. You gotta be there and cheer me on, okay?"

Jack smiled. "I wouldn't miss it for the world," he said."

Crutchie grinned. "Good."

"Now, I gotta get back to work, and you gotta get some studying done, it seems," Jack said, getting up from his seat. "I'm proud of you, Crutchie. I really am."

Crutchie beamed, looking up at him. Things were already looking more optimistic.

* * *

"I'm heading out, so you boys lock up, okay/" Katherine said, heading towards the door.

"We hear ya," Race called after her, waving goodbye as Katherine left the shop.

"Hey Race, do you think I could stay with you and Spot tonight?" Jack asked, wiping down the counter.

"You'd have to ask Spot, but I don't see a problem with that," Race said, emptying the coffee filters. "What's the matter? Spider's got that lady spending the night again?"

"Nah, the two of us just got in a fight this morning and I don't want to deal with him tonight," Jack explained.

"Sounds fair," Race said. "What was the fight about?"

"School, mostly," Jack admitted. "Says I spend too much time working here and not enough time on my studies."

"Well, you do work an awful lot for someone who's supposed to be a part timer," Race pointed out.

"I gotta raise money somehow," Jack said. "Or else I ain't never getting out of this place."

"Why you gotta talk about leaving again?" Race asked. "Ain't there anything keeping you here?"

"Like what?" Jack asked.

"Oh, I don't know, your friends?" Race pointed out. "Us, the shop, Davey, Crutchie?"

"I love you guys, you know that," Jack said. "But I can't stay here forever. I gotta breathe some fresh air, and New York ain't got none of that."

"Get to a roof, you'll find fresh air there," Race said. "Cause in the meantime you'se stuck here, and it's time you get used to that fact."

"Whatever, Race," Jack grumbled, finishing with the counter and putting the rag away.

"Hey, I'se serious," Race said. "You don't need to go getting your hopes up and dreaming about something that ain't real. Out west and all that? That ain't your reality. Your reality is here, right now, in New York, and it's about time you stopped your dreaming and started living."

"Why are we lecturing Kelly?" Spot asked, coming into the shop from the eatery.

"Guy's still talking about leaving and running off to Santa Fe or some shit," Race explained.

Spot huffed. "Wake up and smell the roses, Kelly," Spot said. "You ain't even got money to pay for your own place, how the hell you gonna get out to Santa Fe?"

"I'se working on it," Jack groaned. "Geez, you two sound just like Snyder lately."

"We just tryna be reasonable with ya," Race explained. "Someone's gotta knock some sense into that head of yours. Wouldn't you rather it come from us than from the Spider?"

"I'd rather not have to hear it at all," Jack mumbled.

"Then find new friends who don't care about ya," Race told him.

"We giving you a ride home tonight, Kelly?" Spot asked, pulling out his keys.

"Nah, Jack was wondering if he could stay with us tonight," Race explained.

"Why's that?" Spot asked.

"It just ain't good at home right now," Jack admitted.

Spot nodded, not needing any more of an explanation.

"Be straight with us, Jack, how bad is it?" Race asked, getting serious. "I know things ain't never been good since your mom died, but just how bad have things gotten over the past few months?"

Jack shrugged. "They ain't no worse than usual," Jack said, not looking at either of them.

"Are you lying to us, Kelly?" Spot asked, looking straight at him.

"It ain't a lie," Jack stated, meeting his eyes firmly.

"Then how bad is it?" Race pressed.

"It just ain't good, alright?" Jack snapped impatiently.

Spot frowned. "You know this is the third night in two weeks you'se stayed with us, and I know you'se stayed Sunday nights with Davey, so that's five night total you ain't staying at home."

"Congrats, you can do math," Jack applauded him, mocking.

"This is serious, Kelly, it ain't usually this bad What's got you from wanting to stay at home?" Spot questioned.

Jack shrugged. "It ain't nothing."

"Quit lying to us, Jack," Race told him. "We know something's up, so what is it?"

"Just tell us, Kelly," Spot said.

"What do you want me to say?" Jack snapped angrily. "That all he does is yell and gripe? That he hits things when he gets angry? That he smashed my phone this morning cause I wasn't 'paying him respect'? Would you even believe me if I told you any of that were true? And what difference would it make if you did? I told you, it ain't nothing."

"Jack, you know we'd believe you, no matter what," Race said, his voice softening. "And if you needed any kind of help we'd all be there for ya."

"Jack," Spot spoke up. "He ain't hurting you, is he?"

Jack didn't immediately answer, looking away from the two of them. "It' ain't nothing," he eventually said quietly, not meeting their eyes.

Race and Spot looked between each other, but said nothing. "Alright, let's go home," Spot muttered, heading to the door of the shop.

Race followed after him, looking over his shoulder at Jack, who just stood there, still.

"Jack, you coming?" Race asked, reaching the door.

"Coming," Jack mumbled, following after him. He put the key in the lock, and the door latched shut with a clank.


	9. Chapter 9

"I really think he's dead this time," Race said, poking the head of a sleeping customer resting his head on the coffee shop counter. Crutchie stirred, but made no move to get up. It was six in the morning, the shop had just opened, and Crutchie had walked in, planted himself into a seat, and subsequently rested his head on the counter, presumably dead.

"Shut up, would ya?" Jack groaned, swatting Race's hand away. "He ain't' dead, just sleeping."

"What's he doing sleeping on our countertop, anyways?" Romeo asked, throwing a rag over his shoulder after just finishing up with wiping down the tables.

"Why don't you ask him that," Jack suggested, starting to make a drink for Crutchie.

"Hey, Crutchie," Romeo said, poking his side. "You awake?"

Crutchie groaned, but made no further movements to wake up. He kept his head firmly down on the countertop, buried underneath his arms.

"I don't know what to tell ya, Jack," Race said. "Ya boyfriend is dead."

"He's not my boyfriend," Jack hissed, slapping Race with a rag. Boy, he hoped Crutchie didn't hear that.

"Whatever you say, cowboy," Race joked, taking the rag from him and wiping down the rest of the counter. "Move your head, kid, before you start drooling."

Crutchie groaned again, but slowly moved his head up, staring blankly ahead.

"You with us?" Jack asked, slight concern in his voice.

Crutchie nodded slowly, eyes fixing on Jack.

"What's gotcha so exhausted?" Jack asked, leaning on the counter and letting the coffee he just prepared stand.

"Rehearsals," Crutchie said groggily.

"Oh right, you'se got that big show coming up," Race said. "When's opening night?"

"This weekend," Crutchie said. "It's tech week and I'm actually dead."

"What's tech week?" Romeo asked, confused.

Crutchie yawned. "When you start rehearsing with all the tech and go through to make sure everything works the way it should, which means long hours of rehearsal every night."

"And you'se the star so you must have a lot of work," Jack pointed out.

Crutchie nodded. "We'se already had costume malfunctions and issues with the set," Crutchie explained. "But I think we'se getting it together. It's just a lot of work."

"Are you enjoying it, though?" Jack asked, genuinely interested.

Crutchie nodded. "Yeah, the cast and crew are all great to work with. The director, Miss Medda, is a real peach, you'd like her, Jack."

"They all treating you nice, too, right?" Jack asked, feeling a slight protectiveness over him.

"Course they are," Crutchie assured him. "They'se all pretty great people."

"So, we all gonna see you perform this Friday, right?" Jack asked, looking at Race and Romeo.

Race shrugged. "We gotta get tickets, don't we?" he asked.

"You haven't bought your tickets yet?" Crutchie asked, trying to keep the horror out of his voice, but not succeeding.

"Shit, no!" Jack cried. "Quick, does anyone have a laptop?"

"I've got mine," Crutchie said, already pulling it out.

"Let me use it to buy the tickets now," Jack said. "You'se all paying me back after this."

"Yeah, yeah, just buy them before they sell out!" Race cried impatiently.

"Pulling it up now," Crutchie said, passing the laptop to Jack once he had the page up.

"Uh, how many tickets do we need?" Jack asked.

"Well me and Spot are going," Race said. "Plus, there's Davey and Katherine and Sarah will probably want to come."

"Specs and I are gonna be there, you bet your ass," Romeo added.

"Well eight is about all I can get together so everyone else will have to fend for themselves," Jack said, purchasing the tickets. "Damn, these things cost a lot."

"Sorry about that," Crutchie apologized.

"Hey, kid, it ain't your fault," Jack assured him. "Alright, tickets bought!"

"There'll be a will-call for you to pick up your tickets at the box office," Crutchie informed them.

"Sweet," Jack said. "We did it, we'se officially gonna see your show opening night."

Crutchie grinned from ear to ear. "Now I just gotta survive this tech week," he said.

"Hush, you'll make it," Jack assured him. "You make a great, uh, whatever his name is."

Crutchie laughed. "Quasimodo?" he asked.

"Yeah, that guy," Jack said. "I hear you humming all the time to yourself, you sound pretty great. So don't sweat it, alright?"

Crutchie nodded. "Yeah, alright," he said, biting back a smile.

Jack grinned at him, sliding him his coffee. "Drink up, rockstar, you'se got a show to run."

Crutchie drank the coffee happily, feeling his body rejuvenate from the caffeine. He couldn't believe this all was happening. That he had really gotten the lead role in an incredible show, that he got to play such a fascinating character, and that best of all, his friends were all coming to see him on opening night. Crutchie wasn't sure there could possibly be a happier feeling than what he felt in that moment, but he anticipated a time when he would be proven wrong.

Turns out, that time would come a lot sooner than he expected.

* * *

"Well, don't you look sharp."

"Shut up," Jack said, getting into the back of Spot's car. He was sporting a button-down shirt, with a blazer over it, and an old newsboys cap left behind by his granddad. They were going to see a show that night, and Jack wanted to look his best.

"Someone getting all dressed up for a certain star?" Race asked, his voice dripping with mock affection.

"I said shut up," Jack warned him, feeling his cheeks grow hot.

"Don't get testy just because you know he's right," Spot told him, pulling out of the parking lot and onto the road.

"It ain't like that," Jack argued.

"It ain't like that he says," Race mocked, laughing. "Look at yourself, Jack, you'se smitten, can't you just accept that?"

Jack groaned. "Alright, alright, maybe I am," he admitted. "But it don't matter. Nothing could ever come of it. We'se just friends and that's all we'll ever be."

"With that attitude, sure," Race said. "But you gotta think more positively. Look, how long have you two been friends?"

"Since early November," Jack stated.

"And what is it now? March? You two are always spending time together, always giggling and smiling and making googly eyes at each other. We can all see it. He likes you, Jack, so don't beat yourself up too much. You'se a catch, and so is he. You two are a relationship waiting to happen."

"You should make a move tonight," Spot put in.

"What, no!" Jack said, incredulous.

"Why not? It's perfect!" Race pointed out. "You'se coming to see him star in a musical, you dressed up all handsome, even washed your hair, I see, and-wait, you didn't get him flowers?!"

"Aw, shit!" Jack cried. "I meant to pick up flowers!"

"We can make a stop, we have time," Spot assured him.

"Get three yellow with red tips, that means falling in love," Race told him.

"How do you know this?" Jack asked, shocked.

"I know a guy, alright," Race answered quickly.

They made a quick stop at a flower shop, Jack picking up the appropriate flowers mentioned by Race. They cost a pretty penny, but he hoped they would be worth it. Once he got back to the car, it was only a few minutes' drive to the theatre, where they met up with Davey and Sarah and Katherine, Romeo and Specs already inside.

"Who are the flowers for?" Romeo asked when they met them inside.

"Who do you think, Crutchie, of course," Specs answered for him.

"You got him flowers, that's so romantic!" Katherine said excitedly.

"It was Race's idea to get these," Jack mumbled, feeling his cheeks grow warm again.

"Let's get our tickets before the theatre gets too crowded," Sarah said, walking towards the box office on the side of the theatre.

Jack showed his ID and was handed eight tickets, which he passed out to everyone. Once they all had their tickets, they made their way inside the theatre, all taking their seats in the middle section on the floor level. The curtains were drawn, so the set couldn't be seen, and Jack couldn't help but wonder where Crutchie was at that moment. Backstage most likely. Did he feel nervous? Excited? Scared? There were probably a million thoughts going through his head, and Jack hoped more than anything that he would be at peace during the show, and just enjoy himself. He knew how hard he had been working for the past several weeks, always hearing him humming the songs and occasionally doing a little dance number in the shop late at night when most customers were gone. He had been impressed by Crutchie's dancing, how even though it were simple moves, he was still able to perform them with the use of one good leg. It just went to show that he had practiced hard, and no doubt had proved again and again that he did deserve the role and not just out of pity either. Tonight would prove as much, Jack knew it.

Jack found himself seated between Davey and Race, Spot on the other side of Race and Katherine no the other side of Davey, with Sarah next to Katherine and Specs and Romeo on the other side Sarah. Everyone talked amongst themselves, looking over the program and all pointing out Crutchie's name at the top of the list, excitedly. Jack couldn't believe this were real, but it was. He couldn't begin to imagine how Crutchie must be feeling in this moment if he himself were already so giddy.

Lights when down in the theatre, and the entire place grew quiet. Every seat was full, and there was a low murmur throughout the crowed until a single spotlight came on, and a very nicely dressed lady came out onto the stage.

It was the director, miss Medda, Jack assumed, giving a greeting to every patron in the house and thanking them for being there. After a few words she closed her speech, presenting them with the title of the show, and happy wishes for every audience member's enjoyment. The audience applauded her and the lights went off.

The curtains opened, and a line of people in cloaks with lanterns could be seen, all ascending spiral staircases at the edges of the stage, into the wings of the balcony. As they ascended, their voices together began a chant of what sounded to Jack like an old hymn. This was the choir Crutchie was talking about, he presumed. But not everyone ascended the staircase, some of the actors remained onstage, part of the cast, Jack guessed. A small bell started ringing, and the music from the orchestra pit picked up. The voices grew louder in their song until the music swelled and suddenly the lights came on, revealing the whole set.

The music shook the room, and Jack felt his heart be moved in a way he hadn't experienced before. It was something unexplainable, but it almost brought tears to his eyes. The show had begun, but Crutchie was nowhere to be seen on stage.

"Hey, where's Crutchie?" Race whispered, nudging Jack in the side.

"Shut up, he'll be on soon," Jack said, but he wasn't sure himself. They sat through most of the first song, taking in the familiar tune, though the story was very different from the childhood movie he remembered. Crutchie was right, the musical and the movie seemed to hold very different stories.

The song was nearing its close and one of the actors in a cloak came forward with a declaration.

 _Now here is a riddle to guess if you can, sing the bells of Notre Dame!_

And then Jack saw him, coming out from behind part of the set, walking confidently forward to center stage, meeting the cloaked man there. It took every ounce of Jack's being not to stand up and cheer right then and there. Crutchie looked out to the audience, speaking his first words of the show.

 _What makes a monster, and what makes a man?_

The chorus picked back up, erupting into what sounded like a thousand voices chanting, and the music swelled again. Bells were lowered from the fly loft and Crutchie grabbed a rope extending from them, beginning to ring the bells as the song came to a close.

Jack couldn't breathe. It was all too much. As soon as the first song ended, Crutchie grinned broadly, his character practically dancing around the stage, going on about the beauty of the bells and greeting birds that couldn't be seen. Jack noted that the way Crutchie talked was strange, as if his voice were raspy for some reason. It didn't take long for him to figure out why. When the second character entered, and Crutchie began signing to him, he realized it was because the character he played was Deaf. Jack wondered how much research he had to do about Sign Language and Deaf culture for the role. Knowing Crutchie, he probably took it very seriously and did all the research he could.

Jack realized throughout the play that theatre wasn't something to be taken lightly. Between the intense choreography, brilliant costumes, and incredible acting, Jack was amazed they managed to put such a show together in less than two months. No wonder Crutchie had seemed dead nearly every day for the past few weeks.

Crutchie's first number alone had Jack floored. The dance moves specifically choreographed for him to be able to do, and the way they included an old wooden crutch as a prop to be utilized to his advantage for dancing, it was so brilliantly thought out that Jack could hardly believe it was really happening before his eyes. And Crutchie's singing! Jack had heard him humming before, but never once a single note of song until now. His voice was light and sweet, put yet still powerful and strong. Jack was certain that if he had to hear much more of that voice he was going to be in tears from the sheer beauty of it.

Throughout the show, Jack found himself laughing and crying along with the rest of the audience. However, when the show reached a certain song, Jack felt his heart twinge. With what? Jealously, perhaps?

It was a duet between Crutchie's character and the leading lady, a character named Esmeralda, played by a girl with beautiful tan skin and dark curls. They sat on what had been set up on stage as the rooftop of the cathedral, singing about being on top of the world. At the end of the song, the girl leaned in and kissed Crutchie on the cheek, making Jack's heart ache. Crutchie seemed so happy about it, and he couldn't tell if that were just his character or if Crutchie truly felt pleased by the kiss.

It wasn't until the song Heaven's Light that Jack truly felt something strange in his heart. It was like something were tugging at his heartstrings, something ancient and powerful that he couldn't explain with words. The sort of feeling he got when painting a picture, pictures that he never dared show to anyone because that beauty was private, yet at the same time he wanted nothing more than to shout about it from the rooftops. It was a feeling like that.

As the song neared it's close, Crutchie looked out into the audience, singing his final notes, and for the briefest of moments, Jack could have sworn Crutchie's eyes locked with his own. Jack's breath hitched, and for a moment he forgot what breathing was. Then the song ended, Crutchie exited the stage, and Jack could breathe once again.

The rest of the play went smoothly, everyone seemingly enjoying the show. When intermission started, everyone got up to stretch their legs, and Race tapped Jack on the shoulder.

"He's incredible," Race breathed.

"I know," Jack agreed. "Who woulda thought our Crutchie, a real star."

"I swear, if you don't make a move on him tonight, I will," Race joked.

"Hey!" Spot snapped.

"Kidding, only kidding," Race added quickly.

Intermission ended, and everyone returned to their seats. The musical opened up with another number that sounded to Jack like a hymn, spoken in what he assumed was Latin. It wasn't long before Crutchie was back on stage, and the show went on. Jack watched with anticipation, really getting into the show at this point. When it started to near its end, Jack found himself growing disappointed. He wasn't ready for the show to be over. He wanted to hear Crutchie sing more.

And boy, did he get his wish.

One of the final songs started, a solo of Crutchie's character, featuring some of the gargoyles (who were all much less silly than Jack remembered from the movie). The song was almost painful to listen to, as it came from a place of hurt from the character and Jack couldn't help but hope that Crutchie didn't feel a similar hurt in his life.

 _And my one human eye will evermore be dry until the day I die, as if I were made of stone!_

The final note rang out and the song ended, opening up for the finale. Jack was sitting on the edge of his seat, watching with growing apprehension as the story unfolded. When it finally came near the end, the girl having passed, a solemn line was spoken, which brought tears to Jack's eyes.

 _The world is cruel. The world is ugly. But there are times and there are people when the world is not. And at its cruelest it's still the only world we've got. Light and dark. Foul and fair._

And then Crutchie sang his last words.

 _Out there._

Jack could see Davey practically bawling beside him. Not that he had any room to talk, wiping away his own tears from his eyes. Crutchie's character gave a final soliloquy, explaining the eventual death of the main character, and Jack absolutely lost it. Different from the movie, indeed. The character who appeared to Jack to be a sort of narrator, or Clopin, as he believed he was called, came back to the stage and closed the show with one final thought.

 _But here is a riddle to guess if you can, sig the bells of Notre Dame. What makes a monster and what makes a man?_

Like at the beginning of the play, the choir erupted into a chorus of song, the music swelling and eventually coming to a dramatic close. When the curtain call happened, the entire audience began to applaud, cheers and whoops heard throughout the theatre. But it was nothing compared to when Crutchie came out. The audience all stood up, clapping and cheering like it was the end of the world, Jack and his group making a point to cheer the loudest out of everyone. The actors all took their bows and headed off stage, the curtains closing behind them.

The show was over.

"I've got no words," Davey said, stretching. "Absolutely no words."

"Yeah, you cried out any words you could have had," Sarah joked.

"It was a moving show!" Davey exclaimed. "You were crying too!"

"I think we were all crying at some point," Katherine said, laughing.

"Yeah, you guys shoulda seen Jack here," Race said. "He was sniveling like a baby."

"So was you!" Jack retorted.

"Come on, let's go out there and find Crutchie," Spot said, leading the way out of the aisle. Everyone followed after him, heading out of the theatre and into the hallway where the box office was, a whole crowd of people already gathered outside to meet the cast and crew.

It took a while, but eventually members of the cast and crew began to pour out from the backstage doors, heading into the hallway to meet with family and friends and other patrons who wanted to congratulate them on the show. Jack craned his neck looking for Crutchie, flowers in hand. He felt nervous and shaky all over. What was he going to say? What was he going to do? Should he make a move tonight? Should he do nothing? He had to do something, especially after the performance he just saw. Doing nothing would be an insult to all of Crutchie's hard work. He had to congratulate him in some way, and it had to be spectacular.

"Hey look, there's Crutchie," Race said, pointing ahead of them. Crutchie turned and noticed his friends. A broad grin stretched across his face, and as best he could he broke out into a run, heading towards them as quickly as his legs would carry.

He practically slammed into Jack, wrapping his arms around him in a tight hug. Jack wrapped his arms around him too, hugging him back.

"You did amazing, Crutchie," Jack proclaimed. "I was floored."

"You really think so?" Crutchie asked, his faced streaked with tears and an excited laugh breaking out of his lungs.

"I know so," Jack said, pulling him back in for another hug.

"Hey, watch it, you'se gonna smash the flowers," Race warned him.

"Flowers?" Crutchie asked.

"Oh, right," Jack said holding up the three red rimmed yellow roses. "For you," he said, holding them out to Crutchie.

Crutchie beamed. "Jack, I don't know what to say," Crutchie said, astonished.

"Say you love them," Jack said. "And, uh, there's something else too."

"What is it?" Crutchie asked, confusion spreading across his face.

"Well, you see, it's something like this," Jack started and before he could stop himself or question it any further, he leaned in and planted a single kiss on Crutchie's lips.

Cheers erupted around them, not only from their friends but from everyone who had watched the exchange. Jack pulled away, taking no note of the onlookers, only looking at Crutchie.

Crutchie's face was blank for a moment, and Jack started to fear he had done something wrong. But then Crutchie broke out in one of his signature grins, and Jack knew everything was going to be okay.

But what he didn't expect was the kiss Crutchie gave him in return.


	10. Chapter 10

"I'm warning you, Kelly, get one scratch on that car and no one will ever find your body."

"Thanks, Spot," Jack thanked him, doing the finishing touches on his hair. "So, how do I look?"

"Like a flaming homosexual," Race said, the grin on his face unable to be contained.

Jack frowned. "Come on, I'm being serious. I need to know I don't look like an absolute idiot."

"Well, you failed there, cause you always look like an idiot," Spot countered.

"But if it makes you feel any better, tonight you look like a handsome idiot," Race assured him, giving Jack a pat on the shoulder.

"Handsome, huh?" Jack asked, looking himself over in the mirror one last time. He was wearing a red button-down shirt with a black blazer over top, along with the newsboys cap from his grandfather. He even had a watch on his wrist, nothing fancy, but a workable one, and it made him feel extra sharp for having it.

"It needs something more," Race put in, quickly running back to his room, the sounds of him rummaging around being heard from the living room where Spot and Jack stood. A few minutes later Race returned with a simple black and grey striped scarf, wrapping it around Jack's neck.

"Now you definitely look like a homosexual," Race said, feeling pleased with himself.

"It's bisexual, thank you very much," Jack corrected, adjusting the scarf around his neck.

"Either way you look queer as hell," Race said, tapping Jack on the tip of his hat.

"Is that even a good thing?" Jack asked.

"Yes," Spot and Race said together at the same time. "It's like giving off a signal, you're letting everyone in the area know how very gay you are, so you and your very gay boyfriend don't have to worry about the heterosexuals getting in the way," Race explained.

Jack blushed. "He's not my boyfriend."

"You're literally going to see his show for a second time and then taking him out for dinner afterwards on a date," Race said. "If that ain't relationship material I don't know what is."

"Even Davey ain't seeing that show again, and he's a theatre freak," Spot put in.

"Well yeah, with how much these tickets cost I don't blame him," Jack said. "I'm breaking bank just seeing it once, let alone twice plus dinner."

"But you're doing it anyways because?" Race questioned.

"Because, I don't know, I want to support him, you know?" Jack said, scratching the back of his head.

"Because?" Race coaxed.

"Because what?" Jack asked. "What do you want me to say? Because I like him?"

"Yes," Spot and Race said at the same time again.

"Well," Jack started, feeling cornered. "I do. I like him a lot, alright?"

"We know, Kelly, we know," Spot assured him.

"We just wanted to make sure you knew that," Race added.

"I'm all too aware of it," Jack muttered.

"Why do you say it like that?" Race asked, disappointed.

"Because, what something goes wrong? What if the wrong people find out?" Jack asked, concern in his voice.

"What, like the Spider?" Race questioned. "Just don't bring Crutchie home with you ever, then you won't have to worry about him ever figuring it out."

"What if it gets serious, though?" Jack asked. "He's going to find out eventually."

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there," Spot said. "Right now, you'se got a show to see and a date to prepare for. So, get going."

"Yeah, yeah, I hear ya," Jack said, grabbing the keys off the counter. "Thanks for the ride, Conlon," he called, leaving the apartment.

* * *

The show was as spectacular as Jack remembered it from the week before. Once again, he found himself in tears at the ending, moved by not only the story but by Crutchie's acting as well. Jack didn't think he could get enough of hearing Crutchie's voice. He wondered if he could ever convince Crutchie to sing offstage as well.

When the show ended, Jack waited outside in the hallway next to the theatre just like he did the week before. It was crowded, almost more so than opening night, and when the actors came out it was near impossible for Jack to find Crutchie. When he finally did, he found him surrounded by a crowd of actors and patrons, all wanting to hear from the star of the show. When Crutchie saw Jack, he broke out into a broad grin and made his way over towards him, pushing through the crowd as politely as he could.

"You made it!" Crutchie said excitedly.

"Course I made it, I wouldn't miss out on seeing it again for the world," Jack said, feeling his cheeks warm.

Crutchie grinned. "Was it any better the second time around?" he asked.

"I think your singing was stronger tonight than last weekend," Jack noted. "You seemed more confident."

Crutchie nodded. "I had a lot of jitters on opening night. Surprisingly I got through it with no mishaps, but I definitely think I did better tonight."

"You're a star," Jack said, patting his head.

Crutchie swatted his hand away, attempting to fix his unruly hair. "Thanks, Jack. You look nice, by the way. Better than me, at least."

"That's not true, you look great," Jack said, looking him over. He was in a simple white button up and slacks, nothing fancy, but Jack thought he never looked better. "So, dinner?" Jack asked.

"Dinner," Crutchie agreed. "Let me just grab my stuff from the dressing room, then I'll be ready."

Jack waited patiently for Crutchie to return, making occasional eye contact with the other actors who were still standing around talking with patrons. Eventually, one actor broke away from the crowd, making her way over to where Jack stood.

"So, you're that boy who kissed Crutchie last weekend," she said, a sour look on her face.

Jack nodded. "And you're that girl who kisses him on stage every night," Jack responded, feeling his own sourness spread across his face.

"It's part of the job, it doesn't mean anything," the girl clarified.

"Oh, so he's not good enough for ya?" Jack challenged, feeling a little offended on Crutchie's behalf.

"Oh, that's not it at all," the girl stated. "I'm not just interested in his type."

"And what would that type be?" Jack asked, ready to start a fight.

"Men," the girl answered simply.

"Oh," Jack said. "Well, good, because I am, specifically that one."

"I see," the girl said. "But just so you know, if you dare hurt him, we'll find you, and it won't be pretty."

Jack took a small step back. "We?" he asked.

"The cast and crew of course," the girl answered. "Just be aware of that. He's our star, and he's not allowed to be heartbroken. Do you understand?"

"Trust me, that's not my intent," Jack assured her.

"Good," the girl said.

"Good," Jack agreed.

Crutchie came running back as quickly as he could, bag over his shoulder. "I'm ready!" he said excitedly. "Oh, Jack, I see you've met Ciara."

"Yeah, we'se met," Jack said, eyeing her carefully.

"Where are you going?" Ciara asked, looking only at Crutchie and ignoring Jack.

"Dinner," Crutchie answered, smiling broadly.

"Be safe, it's supposed to snow tonight," Ciara cautioned him.

"I'll be fine, Jack's gonna be with me," Crutchie assured her.

Ciara looked back at Jack, staring him up and down. "I'm sure he'll take good care of you," she said, and Jack was certain he noted sarcasm in her voice.

"We better get going before it gets too late," Jack said, shuffling his feet.

"Don't catch a cold," Ciara warned Crutchie, patting his cheeks.

"Yes miss," Crutchie said, smiling up at her.

Jack held out his hand, and Crutchie took it, the two of them walking off to where Jack had parked the car. Ciara was right, the first few snowflakes had begun to fall, the temperature dropped to below freezing now.

Crutchie shivered. "Cold, huh?" he mentioned casually.

Jack nodded in agreement. "Cold indeed."

"It was really nice of Spot to let you use his car," Crutchie commented as they walked.

"Yeah, though he's threatened to have me killed if I so much as scratch it," Jack said with a laugh.

"Guess we better take good care of it, then," Crutchie said.

They got to the car and started their trek to the restaurant. It was a nice place, nothing too fancy but still good enough quality for a first date. Jack made sure to get out quickly and open the door for Crutchie, who blushed at the action. They walked inside, hand in hand, and were seated at a booth table in the back corner.

"So, your friends in the show seem to really look out for you," Jack commented after the waiter took their drink orders.

"Yeah, they'se a little over protective," Crutchie said sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. "Especially Ciara and Patrick, the guy who plays Frollo. When they found out I had a date tonight they kind of flipped. You should have seen their reaction last weekend after you . . . yeah. It was great but also kind of embarrassing. I hope Ciara wasn't too harsh to you."

"No, she was fine," Jack assured him. "A little scary maybe, but I'd do the same if I were in her place."

Crutchie smiled. "Good to know."

Before long their dinner was brought out and conversation drifted accordingly. The food was nothing too fancy, but it was superb, especially to Crutchie, who had been working without food for most of the day. When the meal was done, Crutchie excused himself to the bathroom, and while he was away Jack ordered a milkshake for him. When Crutchie returned, the milkshake was waiting on the table, untouched and perfect, with a little cookie sitting on top in the whipped cream.

"What's this?" Crutchie asked, sitting down.

"I ordered you dessert, I know how much you like Oreos," Jack said.

Crutchie stared at the milkshake for a moment, saying nothing. Then a single tear began to fall, signaling the start of more, and before Jack knew what was happening, Crutchie was crying into his milkshake.

"Oh shit, I'm so sorry, did I do something wrong?" Jack asked, feeling terrible and confused. What had he done now? Was getting him a milkshake implying that he was fat or something? Did Crutchie actually not like Oreos like Jack had thought he remembered? What was wrong?

Crutchie sniffled. "No," he answered, tears still falling down his face. "I'm just really tired and I love milkshakes."

Jack paused for a moment before laughing with relief. "Oh, oh good," he said, sighing. "I thought something was wrong. Do I need to take you home?"

"No, I'se fine," Crutchie said, sniffling again and wiping his face. He took a sip of the milkshake and more tears started to fall. "It's so good," he said, almost whining. "God, I need to sleep."

Jack laughed. "Maybe the milkshake is too good and you need to give some of it away," he said, reaching across the table and taking the milkshake from Crutchie's hands, playfully pretending to take a sip out of it.

"No," Crutchie whined, reaching for it. Jack returned the milkshake and Crutchie happily took another sip.

"So, long day, huh?" Jack asked.

"You wouldn't believe," Crutchie answered. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I love what I do, but man is it exhausting. This is the only show I'm in for the semester, though, so after next weekend it'll be over and I can take a break until the next auditions."

"Does that mean more time for us to go get milkshakes?" Jack asked, a hopeful tone in his voice.

Crutchie smiled. "Of course," he said. "But, about that. What made you want to in the first place? I mean, I'm not complaining, but why?"

Jack shrugged. "I don't know, I think you're just pretty special I guess," Jack answered sheepishly. "I haven't known you terribly long, but I know I want to get to know you more. I want us to be friends for a long time, if you're willing."

Crutchie grinned. "Special"" he asked.

"You know, one of a kind," Jack explained. "It ain't because of your leg or your acting, it's because you always have something to smile about. No matter how tough things get for you, you'se got something positive to say. And I just think that's pretty neat."

Crutchie blushed. "You'se pretty neat too."

"Oh, really?" Jack asked playfully.

"The way you take charge and lead," Crutchie explained. "And you always know the right thing to say, whether it's a joke or to cheer someone up. Not to mention, you got style."

"Blame that on too much time around homosexuals," Jack laughed.

"Then what are we?" Crutchie asked, laughing as well.

"Well, I'm bisexual, I don't know about you," Jack said.

"Eh, bisexuals still have just as good fashion sense," Crutchie said. "Generally speaking, at least."

"True," Jack agreed.

Crutchie continued working on his milkshake, and the check was brought. Crutchie started to pull out his wallet, but Jack stopped him, placing his own card down on the table. Crutchie started to tear up again and Jack decided it was time to take him back to his dorm.

They walked outside, and snow was steadily falling. Crutchie shivered, walking as quickly to the car as possible. Jack unlocked the door and started to get in, but Crutchie stopped him.

"You, uh, wanna get in the back seat for a bit?" Crutchie asked.

Jack felt his face turn red. "Uh, sure," he said, having no intentions of saying no to that.

They both crawled in the backseat, and Crutchie scooted over as close to Jack as he could get, leaning on him. Jack wrapped his arms around him, trying to get warm. He gently kissed Crutchie's forehead, making him smile. The next thing Jack knew Crutchie was crawling into his lap, kissing him softly. Jack pulled Crutchie closer, deepening the kiss. He could feel every alarm going off in his brain as the excitement started to build. Jack kept his hands on Crutchie's waist, holding him firmly close. They continued to kiss for several moments before Crutchie pulled away, resting his head on Jack's shoulder. Jack smiled, running his fingers through Crutchie's hair. He started to say something, but the next thing he knew he could hear Crutchie gently breathing, a sign that he had fallen asleep.

Jack sat very still, afraid to move. Had . . . had Crutchie really fallen asleep in the middle of a kissing session? Jack could almost laugh, if he weren't in such disbelief. Carefully, he pulled his phone out of his pocket, and sent a text to the first person that showed up in his recent messages.

[Jack K: Help, my date fell asleep on me!]

[…]

[Davey J: Naked?]

[Jack K: NO!]

[Davey J: Hmm, that is a problem then, isn't it?]

[Jack K: What do I do?]

[Davey J: Let him sleep. The boy needs his rest.]

[Jack K: We're in Spot's car outside of a restaurant and it's freezing!]

[Davey J: Let. The boy. Sleep.]

[Jack K: So I'm just supposed to sit here?]

[Davey J: Sleep too. It could be nice.]

[…]

[Jack K: You're no help.]

[Davey J: It's the closet you're getting to sleeping with your date on the first night. Take advantage of it. And I don't mean do anything freaky, so don't interpret this message that way.]

[Jack K: I know, I know, geez.]

[Davey J: Good night, Romeo.]

[Jack K: Wrong employee.]

Jack put away his phone, Crutchie still sound asleep on his shoulder. Jack sighed, deciding to close his eyes and trying to fall asleep as well. Just for a few minutes would be fine.

He had no idea how long a few minutes would be.


	11. Chapter 11

"You slept with him?!"

"Race, it wasn't like that," Jack explained exasperatedly.

It was early morning, the coffee shop was empty, save for the employees who had just opened up. The calm before the morning rush.

"Then what was it like?" Katherine questioned, the table she had been wiping down ignored in her interest of Jack's announcement.

"We just fell asleep in Spot's car," Jack said, shrugging.

"Yeah, and he didn't bring the car back until the next morning," Race put in, fixing himself a coffee.

"Are you sure nothing happened?" Katherine asked, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

"Nothing happened," Jack said firmly.

"But did you want something to happen?" Race asked pointedly.

"No, maybe, I don't know," Jack answered, throwing up his hands in defeat. "One minute he was kissing me, the next he was asleep. I don't know, I guess I was a little disappointed, but he had a long day so it's not like I could be mad at him or nothing."

"Would you want to try again and get farther next time?" Katherine asked.

"Probably, but I don't know if that's what he wants," Jack said.

"He's dating you, of course he wants it," Race said encouragingly.

"What if he ain't like that? I mean, what if he don't roll that way?" Jack asked, worry in his voice.

"Once again, he's dating you, so I'm pretty sure it's safe to say he's into you that way," Race said.

"I want something more out of this relationship than just getting in his pants though," Jack argued.

"You? Wanting something more than that?" Katherine questioned, eyebrows raised in shock. "Who are you and what have you done with Jack Kelly?"

"Just because that's how I was when I dated you doesn't mean I'se that way with every relationship," Jack explained.

"Oh, so all you liked about me was how good I was in bed?" Katherine asked, offended.

"No, that's not what I'se saying," Jack clarified. "I'se just saying I'se grown since then. I'se, I don't now, more mature or something."

"Oh no, you know what I think it is?" Katherine said. "I think you're just in love with him."

"Jack's in love," Race sang.

"I ain't in love," Jack argued, smacking Race on the side of the head.

"Yes, you so are," Katherine said. "You're head over heels for this boy. Jack Kelly, wanting more out of a relationship than to get in his partner's pants, there's no other way to say it, it's true love."

"I don't even think I believe in any of that true love business," Jack muttered.

"And why not?" Katherine asked.

"Have you ever seen anyone truly in love?" Jack questioned.

"Yes," Race answered indignantly.

"You and Spot is different," Jack said.

"No, it ain't," Race argued. "Let me explain something to ya, Jacky-boy. When me and Spot first got together all I cared about was getting laid. And sure that's a nice part of the relationship, but the longer I was with him the more I realized there was something more, something stronger than just that. It ain't because I matured or nothing, it's because I'se in love with him. And it's real, too. None of that fake movie stuff. Real, unconditional love and all that jazz. You hear me, Jack? That stuff is real, and I bet you'se feeling it too."

"Miss me with that gay shit!" Spot called, sticking his head out from the eatery.

"Don't start with me, Conlon!" Race called back.

Jack didn't respond, instead busying himself with the coffee machine.

Race sighed. "Just give it time, Jack. You might change your mind."

Jack nodded noncommittedly, fixing his coffee and turning away from the others. He wasn't in love. He couldn't be in love. There were ten million reasons why being in love would be a bad idea, starting with one very obvious problem.

* * *

"Guess who's gonna be away for two nights!" Jack said excitedly, sitting across from Crutchie at their usual lunch spot in the eatery.

"You?" Crutchie asked, surprised and a little disappointed.

"No," Jack said quickly. "Snyder. He's going on a business trip this weekend. You know what that means?"

"What?" Crutchie asked, confused.

"You should come over!" Jack exclaimed. "We could watch movies, order pizza, whatever! It would be great!"

Crutchie smiled politely. "I thought you didn't like people coming over to your place?"

"Yeah, when the Spider's home, but he'll be away and I can finally have a couple relaxing nights," Jack said. "It's this weekend. Say you'll come?"

Crutchie thought about that for a minute. "Yeah, yeah, I'll come," he agreed, grinning.

"Cool," Jack said, smiling in return.

"Hey lover boys, you gonna order or what?" Spot asked, coming up to their table for the third time that afternoon.

"The usual for me," Jack said, handing him the menu. "But tell Tommy boy not to go too heavy on the cheese this time."

"I'll have my usual as well," Crutchie said, handing him his menu. "And I'll have a coffee, the usual."

"That's your second coffee today," Spot commented.

"I know," Crutchie said, grinning innocently.

"Whatever you say," Spot said, writing down the orders and heading back to the kitchen.

"Why the extra coffee?" Jack asked.

"Gotta big test I gotta study for today," Crutchie explained.

"What class?" Jack asked.

"Theatre history. We're reading Medea," Crutchie said.

Jack blinked. "The Tyler Perry movie?"

"No, the ancient Greek play by Euripides," Crutchie explained.

"Never heard of it," Jack said, taking a sip of his water.

"It's pretty gruesome. The lady kills her children," Crutchie said, shuddering. "There are a lot of plays we have to read in theatre history and I usually have to read through them about three times to get all of the information. Miss Medda is a hard grader."

"Isn't she your director?" Jack asked.

"Yeah, but she's also one of my professors," Crutchie explained. "I hope you'll get to meet her one day. She's the best."

"If what you say about her is any way to judge I bet I would like her a lot," Jack said, smiling.

"So, should I bring anything for this weekend?" Crutchie asked.

"Just yourself," Jack said, grinning. "I'll provide movies and we can order pizza when we get there."

"Sounds good. Meet here and walk over there?" Crutchie asked.

"Actually, it's a far walk so we can take a bus," Jack said.

"Cool, cool," Crutchie responded. "Hey Jack?"

"Yeah, Crutchie?" Jack asked.

"I really like spending time with you," Crutchie said, looking down at the table sheepishly.

Jack felt his cheeks grow warm. "Thanks kid, I like spending time with you too."

"That's gay," Romeo said, passing them with a washcloth in hand.

"Go wash a table," Jack snapped, waving him away.

Crutchie couldn't help but laugh at that, his grin spreading from ear to ear. He was happy at how accepting and supportive all of his friends at the coffee shop had been. He hadn't expected that level of kindness from all of them, but was pleasantly surprised. Growing up, he hadn't been able to be open about his feelings to many people, and to be able to be so open with his new friends now was an unexpected change. Crutchie thought he could get used to this.

There was only one problem. One thing he hadn't been truthful about. Could he tell Jack? Would he feel any differently about him if he told him? Crutchie tried not to think about it, pushing the thought away to the back of his mind. No, he would cross that bridge later.

* * *

"Are you sure this is okay?" Crutchie asked, looking around the small apartment nervously.

"Yeah, my step dad's out of town the whole weekend, I swear, he won't be back until tomorrow afternoon," Jack assured him, locking the door behind them.

Crutchie walked further into the apartment, entering the living room. It wasn't as nice as Davey's but it was quaint. It looked like it was well kept, for the most part. And it didn't smell bad, either. Crutchie wasn't sure what he was expecting, but somehow this wasn't it. He was pleasantly surprised.

"It ain't much, but it's what I've got," Jack said, following him into the living room.

"It's not so bad," Crutchie agreed. "It's a home."

"I'm not sure I'd call it that," Jack said thoughtfully. "But it's a place with a roof, so it ain't too bad."

"Hey Jack, there's something I gotta tell ya-" Crutchie began, but was interrupted when he turned around and Jack was suddenly standing inches away from him.

The kiss was sudden, and passionate. Crutchie could feel his legs grow wobbly as his breath hitched in his throat. Jack's hands were on his waist, pulling him close, while his lips pressed more firmly against Crutchie's, never seeming to be close enough.

"Jack, I-" Crutchie began, pulling away but interrupted yet again by Jack kissing along his throat, causing a gasp to escape him. It felt good, there was no doubt about it. But something wasn't right, could never be right, and Crutchie wasn't sure how to tell Jack about this. But he needed to before things went any farther. It was only fair to Jack, and himself.

"Jack, I need to tell you something," Crutchie tried again, trying in vain to back away.

"Can it wait?" Jack asked, returning his lips to Crutchie's, breathing in deeply.

Crutchie shook his head. "It really can't," he mumbled, his words muffled from the kiss.

Jack groaned a little, but pulled away. "What's the matter?" he asked. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, course not," Crutchie said quickly. "It's just that . . . maybe we should sit down?"

Jack shrugged. "Alright," he said, taking a seat on the couch, Crutchie following suit behind him.

"There's uh, something I gotta tell ya, that might have some effect on us," Crutchie started, feeling his heart pounding in his chest.

Jack stared at him, confused. "What is it?" he asked. "You ain't straight, are ya?"

Crutchie laughed. "No, not at all," he assured him.

"Then what? You ain't got an STD, do ya? Oh, god, that's a bad image," Jack groaned, rubbing his eyes with his hands.

"No, no, nothing like that," Crutchie said with a laugh. "I, uh, I just want to clarify this ain't about you, and this don't mean I don't like your or nothing. I just . . . I can't do this."

Jack's face fell. "Can't . . . do this?" he asked.

"Not-not the relationship," Crutchie quickly clarified. "I just can't do," he indicated with his hands between the two of them. "This."

"I'se not following," Jack said, completely lost now.

"Jack, I'se asexual," Crutchie finally came out and said it.

Jack blinked. "You'se what?"

"Asexual, It means-" Crutchie started.

"Yeah, I know what it means," Jack interrupted. "I just . . . you'se what now?"

"I know, I should have told you sooner," Crutchie said, feeling a pang of guilt for only just now telling Jack this very important detail of his life.

"Yeah, probably," Jack said quickly.

"You'se mad, ain't you," Crutchie said. It wasn't a question.

"No, I ain't mad, I just need time to think about this," Jack said, running his hands through his hair.

"Jack, I'se sorry, I really am," Crutchie apologized, worry growing in his stomach. Jack must hate him now. He must feel betrayed, or disgusted, or whatever mix of those emotions. There was no way he would want to be with him now, not after this. There was just no way He probably wanted him over this weekend to do stuff, stuff that Crutchie couldn't do, no matter what.

"What are you sorry for?" Jack asked, looking Crutchie directly in the eyes. "It ain't like you chose to be this way. It's just who you are."

"You'se . . . you'se ain't mad?" Crutchie asked, not wanting to get his hopes up.

"Course I ain't mad," Jack said. "Crutchie, it's okay. I admit, it took me off guard, and I'se gonna need to get used to this, but I ain't mad at all."

"So, you-you still want to be together?" Crutchie asked, a sliver of hope in his chest.

"Course I do," Jack answered quickly. He thought carefully about his next words, hoping against everything Race would never hear of this. "Crutchie, I love you, and nothing like this is gonna change any of that. I love you no matter who you are or what you'se comfortable with, you understand me?"

Crutchie just stared back at him, dumbfounded. His cheeks felt hot, and his eyes pricked. "You mean that?" he asked, blinking his eyes to try and expel any tears that threatened to form.

"With all of my heart," Jack said, placing a hand on Crutchie's cheek and leaning forward, planting a kiss on his lips.

The kiss was by far the best one Crutchie had ever had. There was nothing fancy about it, no special excitement or flare, just a simple, prolonged kiss.

It went on for several moments, the kiss deepening into something more passionate. Crutchie wasn't sure how far things would go, but he assumed Jack would stay within reasonable limits considering the news he just told him.

He could feel Jack's breathing labor, and a thought suddenly struck Crutchie, causing him to pull away.

"What?" Jack asked, noting the strange look on Crutchie's face. Was he . . . laughing?

"Nothing, it's nothing," Crutchie said, trying to stifle his giggles. "It's just, you was breathing heavy and I started thinking about that image of the cat with the caption 'heavy breathing'."

Jack stared at him for a moment, completely at a loss for words. "You're a nerd, you know that?" he said, leaning forward and planting another kiss on Crutchie's lips.

Crutchie smiled into the kiss. "But I'm your nerd," he said.

"And don't you forget it," Jack told him.

They leaned back in for another kiss, just as long and meaningful as the one before. Crutchie thought that this was possibly the happiest he had ever been.

If only that moment could have been frozen in time for a little longer.

A door slammed shut and footsteps could be heard entering the living room. Jack immediately pulled away, but he wasn't fast enough. The man standing before them had already seen.

"You-you'se back early," Jack breathed, staring in horror at his step dad.

"Change of plans," the man said quietly, eyes darting between Jack and Crutchie.

Jack quickly stood to his feet, and Crutchie followed to do the same. "Uh, this is my friend, Crutchie," Jack slowly introduced. "Crutchie, this is my . . . step dad."

Crutchie gave him a polite nod, unable to form any actual words.

The man nodded simply back. "It's time for you to go home," he told him, pointing at the front door.

"It's late, we wasn't expecting you-" Jack stammered.

"I said it's time for you to go home," the man said slowly, enunciating every word carefully.

"It's okay, Jack, I can catch a bus," Crutchie said quietly, grabbing his crutch and making his way towards the door. He looked one last time back at Jack, then quickly exited the apartment.

"That ain't right," Jack started. "It's late and a far walk to the bus stop from here. That ain't right of you to make him leave like that."

"You want to talk about right?" the man snapped. "You know, I've worked hard for you. I let you stay under my roof and I help pay for your college tuition and this is how you repay me?"

"All that money you use for my tuition comes straight from Mom," Jack snapped back. "She's the one who saved up for me to go to school, not you!"

"And how have you repaid her? By nearly flunking out?" the man questioned. "When's the last time you made an A? A single A in school?"

"I might make better grades if I were actually doing something interesting!" Jack shouted at him. "Not something stupid like pre-law like you'se making me do!"

"Me and your mother agreed on that years ago that that's what you would study!" the man shouted back. "We had this planned out for ten years! And you're just going to throw that all away? How is that for repaying your mother?"

"She would have wanted me to do what I wanted to do!" Jack argued. "Not what you wanted me to do!"

"And what do you want to do? Huh?" the man asked. "Sell coffee? Do that stupid art you're always doing? Something else faggots like you are good at? Because let me tell you something that won't get you anywhere in life."

"Yeah, well I'd rather be a washed-up faggot than a lowlife piece of scum like you," Jack seethed.

The man raised his hand, causing Jack to flinch. "Say that again," he challenged.

Jack didn't say anything.

"I said say that again!" the man shouted, slamming his hand against Jack's cheek.

"You'se a lowlife piece of scum," Jack whispered, turning his head away so the man couldn't see the tears springing up in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, I didn't hear you, say that again," the man said, grabbing Jack by the chin and pulling his head to face him.

"You'se a lowlife piece of scum," Jack said slowly, glaring directly into the man's eyes.

"You're going to regret saying that," the man said lowly, threateningly.

"Try me," Jack challenged, squaring his shoulders in preparation.

A cruel smile played across the man's lips as he raised his hand a second time.

Jack regretted every word.


	12. Chapter 12

**Trigger warnings for this chapter: abuse mention and suicide ideation.**

The door opened with a ring as Crutchie stepped inside the coffee shop. He was greeted with the delicious smell of coffee and baked goods, a smell that usually brought a smile to his face, but that today only left him feeling on edge and worried. He craned his neck to look behind the counter for Jack, but he wasn't there. Instead, all he saw was Race and Albert, both working hard at providing beverages for their guests. Crutchie frowned, but went to take his seat at one of the tables he and Jack usually sat at around this time for lunch. It wasn't long before Spot was standing over him, notepad in hand.

"What can I get ya today, kid?" he asked, his tone the usual dry and cheerless that Crutchie had grown used to from him.

"Where's Jack?" Crutchie asked, ignoring Spot's question.

Spot shrugged. "Katherine said this morning he called in sick, that's all I know."

Crutchie looked down at the table, feeling dejected. "Oh," he said, though he didn't sound convinced.

Spot leaned one hand on the table, looking down at Crutchie. "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice serious.

"It . . . it's nothing, I'se sure it's fine," Crutchie said, trying to smile up at Spot, but not making a good job of it.

Spot looked at him, eyebrows furrowed. "I'se taking my break," he said, sitting down at the table across from Crutchie.

"Don't you have to clock out or something?" Crutchie asked.

"Nah, Davey won't care," Spot assured him. Though he knew that wasn't true, Spot really didn't care. Something was clearly wrong with Crutchie, and he was going to get to the bottom of it.

"So," Spot began. "What's going on?"

"N-nothing's going on," Crutchie stammered, unconvincing.

Spot shook his head. "Nah, something's going on alright," he said. "Did something happen between the pair of you? Jack didn't do nothing stupid, right? If he did I'll kill him."

"No, nothing like that," Crutchie assured him. "It's just . . . last night I went over to his place, just to hang out, but things got weird."

"Weird how?" Spot asked. "And what were you doing at his place?"

"He said his step dad was gonna be gone for a couple days and invited me over," Crutchie explained. "But while we was there his step dad came home. He seemed pretty pissed."

"That man's always pissed," Spot said dismissively.

"I don't know, I just got bad vibes from it is all," Crutchie explained, a pit feeling in his stomach. "I'se been trying to text him all day but he won't respond. I'se worried about him."

Spot stared at Crutchie for a moment, before sighing and pulling out his phone, which had been switched off during work. He turned it on, ready to text Jack to get his act together and respond to his boyfriend's damn messages, when he noticed that he had notifications of his own.

[Five New Messages]

[Jack K: Hey Spot, can we talk?]

[Jack K: Hey Spot, answer your damn phone]

[Jack K: Spoooooooot]

[Jack K: CONLON ANSWER YOUR PHONE]

[Jack K: Damn you, are you working or what?]

Spot groaned, looking up from his phone.

"What?" Crutchie asked, confused.

"Nothing, but I gotta take this," Spot answered, not wanting to let Crutchie know that Jack had, in fact, been ignoring him.

[Spot C: Hey Kelly, your boyfriend is here with me and he's worried sick. What the hell are you doing not responding to his messages?]

[…]

[Jack K: Crutchie is with you?]

[Spot C: Yeah and he's one step away from a wreck.]

[Jack K: Don't tell him you're messaging me. He can't know.]

[Spot C: What's going on, Kelly?]

[Jack K: I need to stay at your place tonight.]

[Spot C: Why? What happened?]

[Jack K: I'll explain tonight. It's just bad. You still have that key hidden under your welcome mat, right?]

[Spot C: Yeah, why?]

[Jack K: I'm coming over now.]

[Spot C: What the hell is going on, Kelly?]

[Jack K: Just don't tell Crutchie, okay?]

[…]

[Jack K: Okay?]

[Spot C: Yeah yeah, alright.]

[Jack K: Thanks, see you tonight.]

Spot shut off his phone, putting it back in his pocket. "Damn idiot," he muttered.

"Was that Jack?" Crutchie asked, the look on his face so pleading, Spot couldn't bring himself to lie to the kid.

"Yeah, it was," he answered, sighing deeply.

"Is he alright?" Crutchie asked, worry in his voice.

Spot thought for a minute before answering. "Crutchie, how would you like to come over tonight?"

* * *

They pulled up in front of Spot and Race's apartment, Crutchie in the backseat of Spot's car. For some reason, Crutchie felt a sick feeling rising in his stomach, though he didn't know why. All he knew was that Spot wanted him to stay over that night, and that it had something to do with Jack. Crutchie didn't want to think of the reason why, but now that he was faced with it, he knew he was going to have to toughen up. Whatever it was, it wasn't just Jack being sick that day.

"What do you think's wrong?" Race asked, all of them still having not gotten out of the car yet.

Spot shrugged. "We'se about to find out," he said, unbuckling his seatbelt and opening the door.

The apartment was on the second floor, and the walk up the stairs was slow for Crutchie, though he went as fast as he could in nauseating anticipation for what he was going to find upstairs. Whatever it was, Jack had some explaining to do. He never ignored Crutchie's messages, ever. And now? What was going on?

Spot unlocked the door, and the three of them stepped inside. Jack was sitting on the couch, jumping when he heard them come in. He looked off, nervous about something, though what, Crutchie wasn't sure. Though, one thing he did notice was that Jack was dressed strangely. The apartment was warm, but Jack was in a long-sleeved sweater and a scarf wrapped snugly around his neck.

Jack made eye contact with Crutchie, and his face immediately fell.

"I told you not to tell him," Jack said, rising to his feet.

"Yeah, well when you play hooky like this, you don't get to make the decisions," Spot argued, taking off his coat and hanging it on the coat rack.

"He was worried sick about you all day, it was only fair to bring him," Race put in, walking towards Jack. "Why weren't you in work today?"

Jack didn't answer, he just kept staring at Crutchie. In that moment, Crutchie wished he could melt into the floor, just to escape those eyes. They looked . . . hurt? Saddened at the very least, almost frightened at the most.

"Hey, he's talking to you," Spot barked. "Answer the damn question."

"I was sick," Jack answered between his teeth, still staring at Crutchie.

"And you'se better now, huh?" Race questioned, not believing him for a minute.

"Crutchie, please go home," Jack said, ignoring Race entirely.

Crutchie shook his head, standing his ground. "I ain't going nowhere," he responded. What could be so bad Jack didn't want him to know about it? Was it something he did? Was Jack mad at him? Had he really not been okay with what Crutchie had told him last night?

Jack groaned. "Just go home, kid. This ain't nothing you need to hear about."

"What ain't nothing?" Crutchie asked pointedly. "What the hell is going on?"

"Kelly," Spot said, his voice low. "Take off the scarf."

Jack froze, looking at Spot now. "No," he responded quietly.

"Jack," Spot snapped. "Do as I say."

Jack flinched, hesitating for a moment. He looked back at Crutchie, eyes almost pleading. He wanted him to leave, why couldn't he just leave?

"Just take it off, Jack," Race said softly. "Let us know what's going on."

Jack hesitated a moment longer before looking down at his feet and slowly unwrapping the scarf. When the scarf was removed, Crutchie gasped, his hands going over his mouth in shock. Along Jack's neck were a number of purplish red bruises, vaguely long in shape.

"What the hell happened to ya?" Race breathed, taking a small step closer to Jack.

Jack didn't say anything, instead he just kept looking down at his shoes.

Spot slammed his hand down on the kitchen counter, causing everyone to jump. "Who the hell did this?" he asked, his voice threateningly low.

"Who do you think?" Jack mumbled, still keeping his eyes downcast.

"I'll kill him," Spot seethed. "I'll fucking kill him."

"How long has this been going on?" Race asked quietly.

Jack shrugged. "On and off for the past few years," he answered, absentmindedly picking at his fingernails.

"Then why the fuck are we just now hearing about this?" Spot questioned, his voice raised.

"I didn't think it was that big of a deal," Jack snapped back. "I'm a grown ass adult, I can take care of myself."

"Yeah, you'se doing a mighty fine job of it," Spot retorted.

"Hey, that's enough both of you," Race barked. "Yelling at each other ain't gonna fix nothing."

"I'll tell ya how we can fix it," Spot muttered. "Give me a knife and I'll go fix it right away."

"Spot, you ain't helping," Race snapped at him.

"Let him run into it seventeen times, that'll solve a lot of problems," Spot argued.

"You'se just gonna make things worse," Jack pointed out, almost pleading.

"At least I'se trying to do something about it!" Spot exploded. "What are you doing about it, huh, Kelly? Just sitting around at taking it? Cause I ain't gonna take it like you."

"Spot, calm down," Race warned.

"I am calm!" Spot snapped.

"I shouldn't have told you," Jack muttered. "I shouldn't have told any of ya."

"Take that back, Kelly," Spot warned.

"Or what?" Jack asked. "You sound just like him, you know? 'Take that back, Kelly'. Damn, how did I never notice how similar you two are? You fucking, piece of shit bastard!"

"Hey, Jack, chill out, he didn't mean it like that," Race snapped. "Take it back."

"Make me, Higgins," Jack seethed.

"Don't talk to him that way," Spot threatened. "I'se warning you Kelly, calm down."

"Or what?" Jack asked again, challenging him.

"Back the fuck down," Spot warned. "I mean it."

"Or what?!" Jack screamed.

"I said back the fuck-" Spot started, but immediately shut his mouth.

The room grew quiet. Crutchie had been standing silently by the door, surveying the whole scene, but now was taking steps towards Jack. No one said anything as Crutchie walked forward, reaching Jack and staring up at him. The two locked eyes for a few moments before Crutchie leaned forward wrapping his arms around Jack, letting his crutch drop to the floor.

"I'se sorry," Crutchie whispered. "I'se so sorry."

Jack stood there, dumbfounded. He looked down at Crutchie, who still held onto him tightly. Jack's eyes stung, and the next thing he knew there were tears streaming down his face.

"Jack," Race whispered. "I'se sorry too."

Spot nodded in agreement.

Jack didn't look up at them, instead lowering his head to rest on Crutchie's shoulder. He pulled Crutchie close, holding him tightly and letting the tears fall. It was only a few moments before two more pairs of arms joined the circle, and all four of them were hugging in the middle of Spot and Race's living room, Jack now steadily crying.

"It'll be okay," Crutchie assured him. "We'll figure this out."

Jack didn't respond, only burying his head deeper into Crutchie's shoulder.

The four of them stayed like this for several moments, just allowing Jack to cry and be held. After a few minutes Spot and Race pulled away, Race rubbing the top of Jack's head affectionately.

"What are we gonna do about this?" Race asked quietly.

"We can't do nothing," Spot put in, his voice much calmer now.

Jack pulled away from Crutchie, wiping at his eyes. "Nothing is exactly what you'se gonna do," he told them, his voice shaky. "I'se a full-grown adult, I can handle this on my own."

"Jack, you don't have to face this alone," Crutchie told him softly. "We want to help you."

"I appreciate it, I really do," Jack said. "But this is something I gotta figure out myself. I don't want to get you guys involved if I don't need to."

"Then why tell us?" Spot questioned.

"In case . . ." Jack trailed off. "In case things get worse. So that someone knows at least."

"Jack," Race started.

"I'se serious, let me handle this," Jack said. "If it gets worse I'll ask for help, but for now I can take care of it."

"You sure about that?" Spot asked.

"Positive," Jack answered.

Spot sighed. "Whatever you say, Kelly. But just know we'se here for you, whatever you need, alright?"

"Alright," Jack said. "Thank you."

Spot and Race made a place on the floor for Jack and Crutchie to sleep, laying several blankets and pillows down to make a soft palette. Race and Spot went to bed shortly after, followed by Jack and Crutchie, who settled into their bed on the floor.

"Jack?" Crutchie asked, not sure if Jack had already fallen asleep.

"Yeah?" Jack asked, not opening his eyes.

"Why didn't you want to tell me?" Crutchie questioned, the hurt unmistakable in his voice.

Jack didn't answer for a moment, slowly opening his eyes and turning to look at Crutchie. "I didn't want you to . . . to think I was weak or something."

Crutchie looked appalled at him. "Jack, you know I would never think any less of you for nothing, especially not this. It ain't even your fault. None of it, you hear me?"

Jack nodded. "I know," he said, hesitating. "But, I shouldn't have this problem at all. I should have solved it a while ago. Instead I'se done nothing to make things better. I don't even know why. I guess, I was just afraid to act, or to tell anyone, cause what kind of man can't take care of himself? I'se weak, Crutchie. There's no other way to put it."

Crutchie rolled over to look Jack square in the eyes. "So, what if you are?" he asked. "You don't have to be strong all the time. You ain't a superhero, and even they have to get help sometimes. There ain't nothing wrong with being weak, Jack. But if you ask me, you're the strongest person I know. And you know why? Because despite everything, you'se still here. You'se still here and I couldn't be prouder of you, you hear me?"

Jack looked down, not meeting his eyes. "I didn't always want to be here," he admitted. "It's stupid, but sometimes I think, I don't know, maybe I'd be better off if I weren't here at all."

Crutchie paused, unsure of what to say next. "You don't mean that, do you?"

Jack shrugged. "Sometimes I do," he said.

Crutchie frowned. "Well, I'se glad you'se here," he said. "The world would be a sucky place without you, Jack Kelly. I mean that."

Jack smiled. "Thanks, Crutchie," he said.

Crutchie scooted closer to him. "Promise me, if you ever feel that way, you'll talk to me, alright?"

Jack nodded. "Yeah, alright," he said.

Crutchie smiled. "Good."

Jack wrapped his arms around him, pulling him close. "I love you, Crutchie Morris."

"I love you too, Jack Kelly," Crutchie responded softly.

Despite everything, in that moment, Jack felt safe. He felt at home.

If only that feeling could last forever.


	13. Chapter 13

**Here's a long chapter for you guys! I hope you've all been enjoying reading this story as much as I've been enjoying writing it. Don't worry, the angst is almost done and we can get back to more cuteness. You know, before I throw in more angst again. Whoops.**

Crutchie woke to a start. He was curled up beside Jack, who was shaking and mumbling in his sleep. Crutchie put a hand on his shoulder and gently shook him, trying to bring him awake. Jack flinched at his touch, and Crutchie could feel his heart break just a little. He tried shaking him awake again but to no result. Whatever dream Jack was having, he seemed to be trapped in it.

"Jack," Crutchie whispered softly, hand still on his shoulder.

Jack's only response was to shudder, recoiling from Crutchie's touch.

"Jack, it's just me. It's Crutchie," Crutchie said, a little louder this time. Jack whimpered, attempting to move away in his sleep.

"Jack, wake up," Crutchie said, shaking him again. "Wake up!"

Jack's eyes finally shot open, and for a brief moment they darted around wildly, until finally landing on Crutchie. Jack's body relaxed, his arms finally losing their tense position, and he rolled back on his side, facing Crutchie.

"Bad dream?" Crutchie asked knowingly.

Jack nodded, his breath coming out heavy. "Yeah, something like that," he answered.

"You wanna talk about it?" Crutchie asked.

Jack shook his head. "I'd rather not," he said, looking down.

Crutchie frowned. "Jack, can I ask you something?"

"You just did," Jack answered, smiling a little and looking back up at him.

Crutchie scowled at him. "Very funny," he said. "A serious question."

Jack nodded. "Sure, go for it," he answered, though he sounded unsure.

Crutchie hesitated for a moment, not sure how he wanted to phrase the question, or if he wanted to ask it at all. But he needed to know. He needed to know if somehow, he was responsible for this, and if so, what he could do to make it better. "Why'd he do it?" Crutchie finally asked.

Jack frowned, looking back down at the floor. "He, uh, wasn't pleased about you being over," he answered quietly.

"I'm sorry, Jack, I shouldn't have been there-" Crutchie started.

"Don't go blaming this on yourself," Jack put in quickly. "He just needed an excuse to do it. It would have happened either way, whether you had been involved or not."

"Still," Crutchie said. "It shouldn't have happened."

"I know," Jack said. "I know."

"Why are you still there?" Crutchie asked. "Why haven't you tried to get out? You could live here, or with Davey, or any other family anywhere else."

"I don't got any other family nowhere," Jack explained. "He's the closest thing to family I got and, I don't know, I guess part of me just hoped things would get better on their own. They didn't use to be like this. He used to not be so bad. Then mom died and . . . well, things took a turn."

Crutchie thought about that for a moment. "I'se sorry, but, I don't think things are gonna get better. I think you need to get out of there."

Jack nodded slowly. "That's probably true," he agreed. "I just don't want to be in no one's way."

Crutchie frowned. "You ain't gonna be in no one's way. I'se sure Spot and Race would be more than happy to let you live with them."

"I'd have to tell him I'm moving out," Jack said. "I'd have to pack up all my things and leave. I'se lived there my whole life. I don't know what I'd do living somewhere else."

"I'll go with you, if you like," Crutchie said. "You don't have to be alone."

Jack smiled. "Something tells me that might just make things worse."

"I'm not letting you go back there alone," Crutchie said. "At least take Spot or Race with you. Even Davey or Katherine. Just don't go back there alone, please?"

Jack nodded. "Okay," he said. "I won't."

"Good, now get some sleep," Crutchie told him. "Some proper sleep this time."

Jack scooted closer to Crutchie, wrapping his arms around him. "Yes, sir," he said, a smile on his face.

Crutchie smiled back, snuggling closer into Jack's arms. Soon they were both sound asleep, and slept through the rest of the night with no disturbances, peacefully resting in each other's arms.

Crutchie was the first to wake the next morning, opening his eyes to the face of a very content looking Jack. He was breathing steadily, his eyes still under his eyelids, having what Crutchie hoped was a dreamless sleep. Crutchie dared not move, afraid to wake him. They were so tangled up in each other's arms that the slightest movement could rouse even the deepest sleeper.

Warm light poured in from the living room window, and Crutchie figured it was still early morning, until he heard voices coming from the kitchen.

"I can't believe they'se still asleep," Race said in a hushed voice.

"It was probably a long night for both of them," Spot explained. "Let them rest."

"Man, I can't believe this," Race sighed. "A few years, he said. How have we not noticed?"

"Kelly is good at keeping things to himself," Spot said. "It ain't anyone's fault. It's just how it turned out."

"Well, it's someone's fault alright," Race seethed. "What should we do about it? Should we call the cops?"

"I think we need to do as Kelly said and stay out of it for now," Spot said, the sound of liquid being poured could be heard. Crutchie assumed it was coffee.

"How can you say that?" Race asked. "Last night you was all riled up to do something."

"Yeah, and now I'se had time to sleep on it, and think it over," Spot said. "And I think Kelly is right. If we get involved it could just make things worse. Let's let him handle it, and if something like this happens again, then we act."

"What if next time it's worse, though?" Race asked. "What if it ain't just bruises?"

"Man, I don't know," Spot exclaimed. "You ever dealt with something like this before? Cause I haven't. I'm way out of my depth here. All I know is that I trust Kelly, and if he says to leave it alone, I'se gonna trust him to handle it."

"Yeah, well, I ain't so sure," Race muttered.

Just then, Jack groaned, stretching his arms above his head. Crutchie nearly jumped at the sudden movement, listening so intently to the conversation in the kitchen he forgot he was tangled up in Jack's arms.

"Morning, sleepy-head," Race called. "You love birds have a good night?"

"Shut up," Jack mumbled, rolling over on his back and slowly sitting up. Crutchie followed suit, stretching as well and moving into a sitting position. He laughed when he looked over at Jack, who's hair was sticking up every which way.

"What?" Jack asked, still half asleep.

"Your hair," Crutchie said, attempting to pat it down.

"You're one to talk, you look like an anime protagonist," Jack argued.

"Yeah, but my hair is always a mess," Crutchie pointed out. "Yours is usually so nice and put together."

"That's because he spends twenty minutes in front of the mirror every morning," Race said. "Like some sort of homosexual."

"Bisexual, thank you," Jack corrected, getting to his feet. He walked over to the kitchen with Spot and Race and began to pour himself a cup of coffee, sitting at the counter.

Crutchie followed him, pouring himself a cup of coffee as well. Everyone was quiet, and Crutchie knew why. They were all trying not to stare at the still visible bruises around Jack's neck. Crutchie felt a sick feeling in his stomach, and for one of the first times in his life, he wanted to punch something. Hard.

"You'se all a cheery bunch," Jack noted, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Sorry Jack, we'se just thinking about how cute you two was all snuggled up together on the floor," Race lied, quickly changing the mood of the room.

"Oh, shut up," Jack said, waving his hand in Race's direction.

"You didn't say I was wrong," Race pointed out.

"We was pretty cute, I'd say," Crutchie said, laughing.

"Minus your snoring," Jack put in.

"Hey! I don't snore!" Crutchie complained.

"Are you kidding me? You snore like a horse," Jack laughed. "It's no wonder I had trouble sleeping last night."

"You seemed to be sleeping fine this morning," Crutchie pointed out.

"Oh, was you watching me or something?" Jack asked, a mischievous grin on his face.

Crutchie blushed. "Shut up," he said, covering his face with his hands.

"You two are grossly adorable," Race said.

"But mostly just gross," Spot put in, taking a gulp of his coffee, still hot.

"So, what's the plan for today?" Race asked, leaning forward on the counter.

Jack shrugged. "I'se got no plans."

"I say we do something fun today," Crutchie said. "It's Sunday, there's no school or work. Let's have a relaxing day."

"Yeah, I can't, I gotta go in today," Spot said.

"But the shop is closed," Crutchie said, confused.

"Yeah, but today Davey wanted us to get some deep cleaning done in the eatery," Spot explained. "So, I gotta head out in a few minutes."

"Yeah, I was gonna help too," Race added. "Get some extra hours in. Unless you two need anything, you could always just stay here while we'se gone."

Crutchie shrugged, looking at Jack. "That's fine with me," he said.

Jack nodded in agreement. "Sounds like a good plan."

"Oh, Jack, you still got your art shit in the closet, so I suggest you use some of it before I throw it out," Race added, pointing towards the hall closet.

"Art shit?" Crutchie asked, confused.

Jack blinked. "Oh, uh, yeah, I forgot about that," he said.

"What art shit?" Crutchie asked again.

"Didn't you know our Jacky-boy was an artist?" Race asked.

"No," Crutchie said, looking at Jack accusingly.

"I dabble, it ain't nothing major," Jack said, waving Race away.

"That's not what I would call it," Spot said. "Seriously, he should be majoring in art, not whatever shit the Spider has him doing."

"You never told me you did art," Crutchie exclaimed, looking at Jack in a slightly new light.

Jack shrugged. "Didn't think it was that important," he admitted.

"Maybe he can show you later," Race said. "He's always got a few notebooks lying around this place for whenever he comes over."

"I'd love to see them," Crutchie said, smiling.

"It ain't nothing," Jack stated.

"I'se sure that ain't true," Crutchie assured him.

"Well, we better head out," Race said, drinking the last of his coffee. "Spot, let's go."

Spot nodded, getting up from his seat and finishing the rest of his coffee as well. They said their goodbyes and headed out the door, leaving Jack and Crutchie in the apartment alone.

Crutchie turned to Jack. "So, where's this art I keep hearing about?" he asked, excited.

Jack sighed. "One second," he said, getting up from his seat and heading towards the closet. He pulled out a sketchbook and walked back over to where Crutchie sat, handing it to him. Crutchie took the book gingerly and began to turn through the pages, stopping at every one to admire the work. Race was right, Jack was quite the artist. The book was full of sketches of various sceneries, from mountains to forests and streams, as well as sketches of numerous people, so lifelike Crutchie could hardly believe it wasn't a black and white photograph. Most of the people he didn't recognize, but he did catch a couple drawings of Katherine and Davey, and even one of Spot and Race together. Needless to say, Crutchie was blown away.

"These are incredible," Crutchie breathed, flipping through the final pages.

"I'se not much of a sketcher," Jack admitted. "I'se much better with painting."

"You'se saying these ain't your good ones?" Crutchie asked in disbelief. "If these are the bad ones I'd love to see the good ones."

"I think I might have a couple canvases here," Jack said, going back to the closet. "Here they are," he said, pulling them out and handing the first of three canvases to Crutchie. It was a mountain scene, with brilliant colors of a sunset setting over the mountain range, and a lake in front reflecting the sun's dying rays.

Crutchie could only stare in awe. "Jack Kelly, you'se incredible," Crutchie said after a minute. "Absolutely incredible."

"They ain't that good," Jack said, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.

"Better than anything I'se ever seen," Crutchie said. "You'se a natural Van Gogh."

"I wouldn't say that," Jack said with a nervous laugh.

"I'se serious," Crutchie said. "You'se really good."

Jack smiled. "Thanks, Crutchie," he said.

"Would you paint me something?" Crutchie asked, hopeful.

"I don't got any clean canvases here with me," Jack said, defeated.

"Hm," Crutchie thought. "You could use me as a canvas?"

Jack blinked.

"No, I'se serious," Crutchie said quickly. "It would be fun!"

Jack laughed nervously. "Wouldn't that, uh, be awkward?" he asked.

"Only if you make it awkward," Crutchie told him.

Jack thought about it for a moment. "Okay, I guess it could be fun, yeah."

Before long, Crutchie was lying on the floor, towels down over the carpet in case of any paint spilling. He had his shirt off, sitting up on his elbows so that Jack could have a good reach of his back. Jack, palette and brush in hand, began his work.

It was hard for him to focus at first. Despite his small size, Crutchie was surprisingly well built, and it made it entirely hard for Jack to concentrate on painting when the muscles on his back were so finely toned. But Jack shook the thought away, focusing on the task at hand.

As soon as Jack touched the brush to Crutchie's skin, Crutchie let out a small giggle. "What?" Jack asked.

"It tickles," Crutchie admitted, still giggling.

"Well yeah, of course it tickles, now hold still," Jack told him, starting to paint the lines of his work.

At first, he wasn't sure what he wanted to paint, but the idea soon came to him after thinking over their last few dates together. Using greys and purples, Jack painted archways and steeples, and columns and doorways.

"What are you painting?" Crutchie asked, trying to turn his head to get a view of Jack's work, but not being able to turn his head far enough.

"Butts," Jack answered, trying to suppress a laugh.

"Are you serious?" Crutchie asked, almost horrified.

"No," Jack laughed. "You'll see when it's done."

Crutchie pouted, but didn't say anything more. Instead, he tried to focus on not laughing as the paintbrush glided over his skin, tickling his sensitive nerves. Crutchie could hear Jack humming softly to himself, and he thought his voice was very pleasant to listen to.

"What are you humming?" Crutchie asked. The tune sounded very familiar, but Crutchie couldn't place where from.

"You Are My Sunshine," Jack answered, trying not to blush. He was, in fact, painting sun rays in that moment over the scene.

Crutchie felt his face grow warm. "Any reason?" he asked.

"Because you are my sunshine," Jack answered simply, painting the outline of a bell.

Crutchie's face grew hot. "Oh, stop it," he said, though he couldn't help but smile.

Jack grinned and continued to paint, still humming the same tune.

"My mom used to sing that to me when I was little," Crutchie said quietly after a few minutes.

"What happened to her?" Jack asked solemnly. He knew Crutchie had spent most of his life in foster care, but never asked about what happened to his birth parents.

"She and dad died in a car crash," Crutchie explained. "I was in the back seat."

"Is that how . . .?" Jack trailed off.

Crutchie nodded. "Yeah," he answered. "I got off lucky, though. I lived."

Jack was silent for a moment. "I'se sorry," he eventually said, meaning it.

Crutchie shrugged. "Life happens," he said.

"My mom was shot," Jack said after a moment. "On her way home from work one night. Cops said it was an attempted theft that went south. At least, that's what they say."

Crutchie didn't know how to respond. "I'se sorry," he eventually said.

"Yeah, me too," Jack replied.

The room went silent. Jack continued to paint as Crutchie held still for him, a certain morbid feeling hanging in the air. Neither wanted to be the next one to speak, but both desperately wanted to change the conversation.

They ended up staying silent for the rest of the time Jack spent painting. When he was finally done, he set down his paint brushed and sighed. "All finished," he said, satisfied with his work.

"Can I see?" Crutchie asked, craning his neck to try and get a peak, but to no avail.

"Let me take a picture," Jack said, pulling out his phone. He looked down at his worn-out flip phone and sighed. "Actually, we better use your phone," he said.

Crutchie reached for his phone and handed it back to Jack, who took a picture of his work and saved it. "Here," he said, handing the phone back to Crutchie.

Crutchie eagerly took the phone and looked through his pictures. When he saw the finished product, he gasped. It was a surrealistic painting of the cathedral of Notre Dame, with the setting sun illuminating it with golds and purples.

"I just thought," Jack started, feeling suddenly very awkward. "That since that was sort of our first date and all, it would be a nice painting to do."

Crutchie grinned broadly. "You'se a star, Jack Kelly."

Jack beamed. "Thanks, Crutchie. That means a lot."

Once the painting was dry, Jack insisted on taking several more pictures, in order to save his work forever. Once the pictures were saved (and edited within an inch of their life by Jack), Crutchie went to take a shower to rinse off the paint. Jack waited patiently outside for him, cleaning up the mess they made on the floor during that time.

Once Crutchie came out of the shower, Jack had already finished cleaning up. They decided to make something to eat and turn on a movie, Crutchie making a mental note to pay Race and Spot back later for the borrowed food. Once the movie was on, the two of them curled up on the couch, snuggling up close together. Neither of them paid much attention to what they were watching, but it was good background noise. Instead, they settled for talking about simple, lighthearted things like school and work. Jack shared stories about Davey and Katherine and the trouble all the employees gave them at the shop, and Crutchie shared stories about his adventures in the theatre. It was a good, relaxing time for both of them. Crutchie wished they could stay like this forever, but knew it would have to end soon. Jack would have to go back home at some point, and that meant the nice dream would be shattered. Whatever happened, he was going to stay by Jack, no matter what. Even if it meant facing something scary.

It wasn't long before Spot and Race came home, both sporting grins on their faces.

"What's got you two looking so chipper?" Jack asked as they came in the door.

"Oh, just an interesting day at work," Race said, with no further explanation.

"Are you going into work tomorrow?" Spot asked Jack, setting his coat on the coat rack.

Jack shrugged. "I probably should. I already missed one day this week."

"I'se sure Kath won't mind if you miss one more day," Race said.

"Not without an explanation and I ain't doing that," Jack said firmly.

"You'se welcome to stay another night, but by tomorrow you need to figure out what you'se gonna do," Spot told him.

"I know, I know," Jack said. "I'll figure something out."

"You ain't going back there, are you?" Race asked.

Jack sighed. "What other choice do I have?" he asked.

"You said you wouldn't go back there," Crutchie argued.

"I know, but I ain't got nowhere else," Jack told him.

"Look, you can go home tomorrow during the day, pack a bag, and come stay here until you get things figured out," Race said. "We don't mind, honest."

"I'll go with you," Crutchie said. "I can miss my morning class, it's alright."

"I don't work until the afternoon tomorrow," Spot said. "I'll go as well."

Jack smiled. "Thanks, you guys," he said sincerely.

"Don't worry about it," Spot told him.

"What are friends for?" Crutchie added, smiling broadly at him.

Jack grinned. He really was lucky to have these guys in his life. Once again, he felt that feeling of safety wash over him.

He was going to need it for tomorrow.


	14. Chapter 14

"I'se sorry," Jack said as the car pulled up outside of his apartment building.

"What are you sorry for?" Spot asked, taking the keys out of the ignition.

"For that stuff I said the other night," Jack explained. "I didn't mean any of it. I was just angry, I guess."

"Don't worry about it, Kelly," Spot said, opening the door and getting out of the car.

"We'se just going to be in and out," Jack said, getting out of the car as well. "I'se just gonna pack a bag and we'se gonna leave, right?"

"Right," Crutchie agreed, following behind Jack. He was happy to know that Jack lived on the first floor, so there were no stairs to worry about. Jack unlocked the door and the stepped inside.

"Hello?" Jack called, coming in. No answer. "Good, no one's home," he muttered closing the door behind Spot and Crutchie as they came inside.

"Was you expecting anyone to be home?" Spot asked.

"Snyder lost his job," Jack explained. "I think that's one of the reasons he got so pissed the other night."

"So, no more, what's her name?" Spot asked.

"Yeah, I get the impression she broke it off and fired him all in one day," Jack said, shrugging. "You guys can just wait here, I won't be long."

Jack walked off to his bedroom, grabbing a suitcase from under his bed and beginning to throw things inside. Crutchie and Spot waited in the living room, both taking a seat on the couch and waiting patiently for Jack to be finished.

"This is a nice place you'se got," Spot called from the living room to Jack.

"Is that sarcasm?" Jack asked, throwing a wad of clothes into his bag.

"No, I mean it, it's not bad," Spot said. "Cleaner than I expected. I never took you for a neat freak."

"Spend enough time around Davey and he starts to rub off on you," Jack explained. "Where the hell are my shoes?"

"Ain't you wearing them?" Spot asked.

"My other shoes," Jack snapped.

"You got two pairs of shoes?" Spot asked, surprised. "Even I don't got two pairs of shoes."

"One for work and one for daily wear," Jack explained. "Now where the hell are they?"

"Need any help?" Crutchie asked, getting up from the couch.

"Nah, I'll find them in a minute. "They'se probably under my bed or something," Jack said, getting down on his hands and knees to look under the bed. "Ah hah! Found them!"

"Weren't we just talking about Davey's neatness rubbing off on you?" Spot pointed out.

"Yeah, and it has to the rest of the place, just not my own room," Jack said. "I ain't orderly unless I need to be, and Snyder likes a clean house. So, I take what I learned from Davey and apply it to my chores. Don't mean I gotta apply it to my own personal space"

"Hey, Jack, can I get a glass of water?" Crutchie asked.

"Yeah, kitchen is back that way," Jack said.

"Which way? I can't see ya, there's a wall in the way," Crutchie pointed out.

Jack stepped out from the doorway of his room pointing down the hall. "That way," he said.

"Thanks," Crutchie replied, heading towards the kitchen.

"Hey, bring me one too," Spot called, picking up the remote and turning on the TV.

"Hey now, don't get too comfortable, we'se leaving in a few," Jack told them, going to the bathroom and grabbing his toiletries.

"Chill out, it's just water," Spot said, flipping through the channels and propping his feet up on the coffee table. Crutchie came back into the living room, two glasses of water balanced in his left hand.

"Grab it before it drops," Crutchie said quickly, holding out the water to Spot. Spot grabbed both glasses and set them on the coffee table, Crutchie sighing with relief and taking a seat.

"Almost done," Jack said after a few minutes, throwing in the last few things and zipping the bag closed. He came back out into the living room with his bag being pulled behind him. "Clean up your mess, and turn that off," he told the two of them, indicating to their water glasses on the coffee table and the TV on.

Spot sighed and got up from his seat, turning off the TV and grabbing the two glasses to take back to the kitchen, swallowing the last of his water first. Jack was heading for the door and just as he was about to open it, he heard the sound of a key turning in the lock, and before he knew it the door was being pushed open.

Jack froze where he stood, looking up to face a very sour looking Snyder.

No one moved; Crutchie could feel his breath get caught in his throat. The icy look in the man's eyes froze Crutchie's blood.

"You want me to wash those cups?" Spot asked, coming out from the kitchen. When he saw who was standing in the doorway he stopped in his tracks, eyes going from their usual bored expression to a sort of fiery anger.

Snyder looked between Jack and the two other boys in the apartment, his arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently. "Where have you been?" he finally asked, looking back at Jack.

Jack didn't immediately answer, and for a brief moment Crutchie thought he was going to break down. But eventually he uttered a simple word "Out."

"Out where?" Snyder asked, his tone low.

"Just out," Jack answered.

Snyder looked back at Crutchie and Spot. "You have guests over?" he asked, and Crutchie could tell he was trying very hard to be civil.

"They was helping me pack," Jack explained, looking down at his feet.

"Pack?" Snyder asked. "For what?"

"I'se leaving," Jack answered. "Today."

For a second Crutchie thought Snyder was going to explode, but instead he laughed. "Leaving? And where are you going to stay?"

"With me," Spot said, stepping in. He gave Snyder the deepest glare Crutchie had ever seen, and it was enough to make his skin crawl and his stomach churn.

Snyder stared back at him, and Crutchie feared there was going to be a fight then and there, but both held their cool.

"Can I have a word with you," Snyder said to Jack, not asking. "Alone," he added, glaring between Crutchie and Spot.

"Whatever you have to say to my boy you can say in front of us," Spot retorted, crossing his arms in front of him.

"This doesn't concern you," Snyder told him dismissively.

"This started to concern me the second you laid a hand on my friend," Spot all but shouted at him, his face turning red.

"You come into my house," Snyder started. "You start accusing me of false situations; you have no right. Get out of my house!"

"False situations?" Spot questioned. "Explain the bruises then! Go on, Jack, take off the scarf and show him his handiwork."

Jack didn't move; he was frozen in place, unable to look up at either of them. He could feel himself beginning to shake; he needed to get out of there. He needed to get out of there now.

"Yes, Jack explain to them what happened," Snyder sneered. "You fell down the stairs at school, didn't you?"

"That's a lie and you know it," Spot snapped. "Tell him, Kelly."

"Yes 'Kelly', tell me," Snyder prompted, putting a hand on Jack's shoulder. Jack immediately flinched away, looking up between Snyder and Spot, and then back down at his feet.

"I . . ." he trailed off.

"Well? What happened?" Snyder asked, his voice sickly smooth, the very sound making Crutchie feel ill.

"I . . . fell down the stairs," Jack admitted, not looking up at any of them.

"That's what I thought," Snyder said proudly. "You're both welcome to leave."

"You lying little son of a bitch," Spot seethed, walking towards Snyder, fists clenched tightly at his sides.

"Whoa stop!" Crutchie cried, getting between the two of them.

"Get out of my way, Crutchie," Spot said lowly, glaring over him.

Crutchie shook his head. "If you try anything he'll just call the cops on us, then where will we be?"

"We'll tell the cops what he did, that's where we'll be!" Spot snapped, pointing an accusing finger at Snyder.

"What proof do we have?" Crutchie asked. "None! That's what proof we have!"

"If you two are just going to argue, take it outside," Snyder told them, stepping out of the way of the door.

"We were just leaving," Crutchie said, giving Spot a hard look. He grabbed Jack's hand and started pulling him towards the door, Jack following numbly behind him.

"Where are you going?" Snyder asked, grabbing Jack by the shoulder. Jack stopped in his tracks, not daring to make a move.

"He's coming with us," Crutchie said firmly, tugging on Jack's hand.

"No, he's not," Snyder retorted, pulling Jack back.

"Get your shitty hands off of him!" Spot snapped, stepping up and grabbing Jack by the arm, pulling him away. He planted himself between the two of them, glaring up at Snyder, squaring up.

Crutchie grabbed Jack's hand again and tugged him towards the door, pulling him outside. Snyder started to say something, but Spot interrupted him.

"One word and you'se getting a fist in your mouth," he glowered.

"Do it and see what happens, young man," Snyder replied, his eyes full of rage.

"Spot, come on," Crutchie called, already tugging Jack back to the car.

Spot glared up at Snyder one last time before turning and following the others out into the snow. Snyder watched them leave, calling after them "Jack!"

Jack stopped, not turning around to look at him.

"You can kiss your schooling goodbye," Snyder warned. "Do you really want that?"

Jack didn't answer. Instead, he quietly got into the front seat of Spot's car, Crutchie taking his suitcase and putting it into the backseat, along with himself. Spot followed after them, slamming the door shut behind him and pulling out of the parking lot as fast as he could.

They all sat in silence for several minutes, Crutchie not sure if he was feeling sick from the altercation that just took place, or the reckless way in which Spot was driving at that moment.

"I should have hit him," Spot muttered, swerving in and out between cars.

"That wouldn't have solved anything," Crutchie said, though he hated to admit it.

"No, but it would have felt damn good," Spot retorted.

"Pull over," Jack said quietly.

"What?" Spot asked, confused.

"I said pull over," Jack snapped.

Spot continued driving for a few moments before finding a place to pull over. There was a park to their right, and Jack immediately got out of the car, walking off the sidewalk into the snow a few feet before kneeling down, hunched over.

"Shit," Spot muttered, getting out of the car, Crutchie following suit.

They quickly walked over to Jack, who was trying his best not to expel all of his lunch. He gagged for a few moments, his face growing hot and tears springing into his eyes as he tried not to puke.

"It's okay, let it out," Spot said, kneeling down beside him and rubbing his back soothingly.

Jack tried, and eventually he started to puke, until all of the contents of his stomach had been emptied, leaving him dry heaving.

"Take a breath," Spot ordered, still rubbing his back. "Try swirling some snow around in your mouth; you'll feel better."

Jack did as he was told, spitting it out among the rest of the contents in the snow. Tears were still streaming down his face, and Crutchie knelt down beside him, pulling out his handkerchief and carefully wiping at his eyes.

"It's okay," Spot said. "You'se okay." He pulled Jack into his arms, rocking slightly. "Shh, it's going to be okay."

Crutchie put a hand on Jack's shoulder, rubbing it soothingly. He wanted so badly to say something, anything that would make him feel better, but no words came to mind. Instead, he just sat there, rubbing Jack's shoulder and listening as Spot muttered soothing words in Jack's ear.

Jack cried for what felt like an eternity; it was entirely too long for someone as special as him to cry, Crutchie thought. But eventually, the sobs turned into hiccups, and the tears slowly subsided.

"I'm a fucking mess," Jack breathed, wiping at his eyes with the handkerchief Crutchie lent him.

"Yeah, you are," Spot agreed. "Look at the mess you made in the snow."

"Are you okay?" Crutchie asked, his voice sounding small and helpless.

"No, I'se not," Jack said. "But what can you do, you know?"

The three of them sat quietly, Spot still holding Jack firmly, as if he were afraid to let him go.

"I'se sorry, I couldn't say it," Jack said after a minute. "I don't know why, I just . . . couldn't."

"You ain't got nothing to be sorry for," Spot told him. "This is all his fault, not yours."

"I'm so weak," Jack muttered.

"Hey, remember what we said the other night," Crutchie reminded him. "There ain't nothing wrong with being weak sometimes. You'se got the right to be weak right now."

Jack sniffed. "I just . . . I don't get why this happened," he said. "Why do things gotta be this way? They weren't always so bad. It ain't fair."

"Course it ain't fair," Spot said. "It ain't right, neither. But it is what it is. You can learn from it or you can let it consume you. Which is it gonna be, Kelly?"

Jack didn't answer, instead looking down at the snow.

Spot hugged Jack tight. "You'se a good kid, Kelly," he said. "Don't let this consume you."

Jack nodded, not looking at either of them.

"Now come on, let's get out of this snow," Spot said, helping Jack to his feet. The three of them stood, Spot towing Jack back to the car. Crutchie stayed where he was for a moment, thinking. He wished there was something he could do, something to cheer Jack up. He just wanted to see him smile again. If one he could make him smile. Then, a thought came to him. Carefully, he bent down and picked up a handful of clean snow, balling it up in his hands. He took aim, and threw it, hitting Jack square on the back of the head.

Jack turned around quickly, staring in shock at Crutchie. "Did you just throw a snowball at me?" he asked, incredulous.

Crutchie laughed. "Maybe I did," he said, grinning from ear to ear.

Jack blinked. "You'se dead, Morris," he said, and promptly took off running at Crutchie.

Crutchie shrieked and turned to run away as fast as he could, getting far enough away from the soiled snow before eventually tripping and falling. Jack jumped on top of him, picking up snow around them and tossing it over Crutchie, grabbing handfuls and putting snow down his shirt.

"No, stop that!" Crutchie cried, laughing too hard to fight back. "Spot, help!"

Before he knew it, Spot was lifting Jack off of him, wrestling him down into the snow. Crutchie scrambled back to his feet, grabbing his crutch and cheering Spot on as he pounded Jack with snow.

"No fair, it's two against one!" jack cried, laughing as Spot threw snow on his face.

"That's what you get for going after Crutchie," Spot said, grabbing a handful of snow and shoving it down Jack's pants.

Jack howled. "You'se dead, Conlon!"

"Try me, Kelly!" Spot challenged, getting up off of him and squaring up.

Jack stood to his feet, grabbing handfuls of snow and pelting Spot with them. Soon it turned into an all-out snowball fight, Jack against Crutchie and Spot.

They ran around the park, laughing and chasing each other down and wrestling in the snow. Crutchie watched Jack closely, noting the bright smile on his face that only moments before would have been impossible to imagine. Crutchie wasn't sure he ever saw Jack smile that brightly, and it warmed his heart to the core. At one point Spot picked up Crutchie and ran off with him, Crutchie kicking and demanding to be put down, and Jack chasing after them hollering for Spot to return his boyfriend. It was the best of times, and before long all three were tiredly walking back to the car, sides hurting from exertion and laughter.

When they made it back to the apartment, they all crashed onto the couch in the living room, promptly falling asleep. They didn't wake until Race returned, confused and demanding an explanation as to why they were all lying in a pile on the couch. They all just looked at each other and laughed, much to Race's annoyance.

It was a horrible day, but it didn't end so terribly. Jack once again found himself marveling at how lucky he was to have these people in his life. That even though his step father didn't love him, there were other people who did. And maybe that would be enough.

Yeah, that would be enough.


	15. Chapter 15

A few weeks had passed since Jack moved in with Race and Spot, and Crutchie could already see a difference in his demeanor. There was something brighter about his appearance. He smiled more, joked around more, like a light that had been off for so long had finally been turned on again. It was heartwarming. Jack could finally stop wearing the scarf after about a week and a half, the last remnants of that horrible memory finally gone. That part of his life was finally over, for good. As far as Crutchie knew, Snyder hadn't tried to contact Jack since he left, and Crutchie thought Jack was better off this way. He didn't need someone like that in his life, not ever again. Jack had a new family now, with everyone at the shop and, hopefully, Crutchie included. He liked to think so, at least.

It was mid April now, the world finally starting to warm up. Jack had dropped out of school and applied to work at the shop full time. Crutchie was glad for him, because it finally seemed like Jack was doing the things he wanted, rather than the things that were expected of him.

Crutchie sat at the counter of his favorite coffee shop, sitting on his cup of coffee and listening as the baristas behind the counter theorized over different new frappuccino ideas.

"Maybe we could do a unicorn frappe?" Specs suggested.

"Everyone's done the unicorn frappe," Albert argued. "That ain't original."

"How about an Easter bunny frappe, then?" Specs said. "Everyone loves Easter bunnies."

"That's what everyone's going to be doing," Katherine pointed out. "That café down the street, oh what's it called, is already doing that."

"Aperture Café?" Jack asked.

"Yeah, that one," Katherine said, clapping her hands together. "We need to think of something else, something better."

"Uh, I hate those guys," Albert muttered. "Heard they had unethical coffee practices."

"Which is why we can't copy them," Katherine said. "Now come on, some better ideas, please."

"You could do pride drinks?" Crutchie suggested. "Pride season will be here before you know it. It'll be a great way to bring awareness and get people into the spirit."

"Hmm, that's not a bad idea," Katherine said, humming to herself. "How would we make those flavors?"

"We could use food coloring for some of the colors in the flag," Jack suggested. "So there ain't too much of a mix of flavors that it overwhelms customers."

"You could even make a hetero flavor one to be all inclusive," Crutchie said. "Chocolate and vanilla swirl."

"Bland, boring, and typical just like heteros," Albert joked.

"However, since this was my idea, I demand there be an ace one," Crutchie said.

"You wanna put grey in a drink?" Specs asked, looking mildly disgusted.

"It don't have to taste like grey, just look it," Crutchie said.

"I like this idea, Crutchie," Katherine said, writing down notes on a notepad. "This is definitely going to the boss."

Crutchie beamed. "I'm full of good ideas."

Suddenly, a scream was heard coming from the eatery portion of the shop. Everyone turned their heads, some jumping in shock. It sounded like a little girl had screamed in terror, and immediately put everyone in the shop on edge.

"What the hell was that?" Albert asked, hands over his ears.

"I'm going to go check it out," Katherine said, stepping out from behind the counter and heading towards the eatery. Before she could reach the door, a very angry looking Davey stormed out of the room, dragging a flustered Race behind him.

"What happened?" Jack asked. "Don't tell me that was you doing the screaming?"

"Don't ask," Davey seethed, shoving Race to the counter. "Now get back to work."

"Race, what happened?" Specs asked, leaning forward in curiosity.

"Mr. Grumpy Pants caught me and Spot in the fridge," Race answered, almost laughing. "It wasn't a pretty sight for him I imagine."

"What were you two even doing?" Crutchie asked, far too innocently.

"I'll tell you when you'se older, kid," Race answered, patting Crutchie on the head.

Crutchie pouted, swatting away Race's hand.

The doorbell rang, and the sound of small running feet could be heard entering the shop. "Katherine, Katherine!" a small voice cried, running up to the counter as a young child placed himself on the seat next to Crutchie, huffing out excited breaths.

"Hello, Les," Katherine said, giving the small child a warm smile. "Are you looking for Davey?"

"No, I'se looking for you," he answered, still breathing heavy. "It's about Sally, I think I'se got a date!"

"Oh really, good for you!" Katherine said excitedly, ruffling the kid's hair.

Les swatted her hands away. "But I need help. I don't know what to do!" he exclaimed.

"Why don't you ask Sarah?" Jack asked, fixing a cup of coffee for an actual paying customer.

"Sarah don't like boys, how is she supposed to know what a boy needs to do on a date?" Les proclaimed. "And Davey only likes boys, so I can't ask him what to do to please a girl. And no way am I asking my parents."

"Aren't you a little young to be going on dates?" Crutchie asked, taking note of the kid's small size.

Les looked Crutchie up and down. "Who's you?" he asked impatiently.

"I'se Crutchie, pleased ta meet ya," Crutchie said, extending a hand.

"Oh, you'se that guy who lived with Davey for a while, ain't ya?" Les exclaimed. "But Davey wouldn't go out with you because he figured you liked Jack."

"Wait, Les, was someone trying to set Crutchie up with Davey?" Jack asked, incredulous.

"Well, since it didn't work out with you two way back when after that whole mono incident-" Les started.

"What mono incident?" Crutchie asked, surprised.

"Mom and dad wanted to see Davey with someone nice and pleasant and from what Davey told us about him he seemed like a good fit," Les continued, ignoring Crutchie.

"What mono incident?" Crutchie asked again.

"Jack and Davey dated way back when for a few months and Jack gave Davey mono," Katherine explained.

"How do you know it wasn't the other way around?" Jack asked. "We both got sick."

"Because you're the only one who goes around kissing strangers," Katherine answered sharply.

"Jack, how many people at this shop have you dated?" Crutchie asked, feeling a little self-conscious.

"Well, I started dating Sarah when I first started here, that didn't go well," Jack explained. "Then I started dating Davey, and the whole mono thing happened, so that went even worse. Then I started dating Kath, and needless to say we didn't get anything done and it was an unproductive relationship."

"Yeah, they was fighting nonstop," Albert put in, finishing up the drink Jack had been working on and handing it to the appropriate customer.

"Then there was that thing with Spot that lasted a couple of days," Jack said. "Bad idea. Just bad. And I'd be lying if I didn't say I hadn't thought about Race a couple of times."

"Aw, I'm touched," Race said, putting his hand over his heart.

"Oh, and one time Specs and I made out in the fridge," Jack added. "Now that was a time."

"Hey! I thought we wasn't gonna tell anyone about that!" Specs cried.

"Jack's been around the bend," Katherine summarized.

"Oh," Crutchie said, feeling a pit in his stomach. Did that mean . . . he would end up the same way? Just another person from the shop Jack dated? He hoped not, but was it inevitable?

"Enough about Jack's dating repertoire," Les said. "What am I gonna do about my date?"

"Well, where are you taking her?" Katherine asked.

"The movies," Les answered.

"Well, be sure to put your arm around her, just not too soon," Katherine said. "And pay attention to the movie, not just her. She'll want to be able to talk to you about it afterwards. Oh, and offer to buy her candy. Every girl can appreciate a gentleman. At least, those of us who are into them."

"Just don't try to kiss her, trust me it's a bad idea," Jack put in.

"You would know," Race joked.

"Now see with guys, you can get away with that stuff on the first date," Jack explained. "But girls, you can't. You'se gotta be more careful with them. They like to take things slow, and respect is a huge deal to them too. So be respectful above all else."

"Sound advice, if only you could listen to yourself," Katherine replied snidely.

"Hey, I'se respectful, ain't I Crutchie?" Jack asked.

"Huh?" Crutchie asked looking up. Oh, yeah, sure," he said quickly, pretending to have been paying attention.

"Anyways, you'll do great kid," Jack said. "Just be yourself and I'se sure this girl Sally will love ya, no worries."'

Les beamed. "Thanks Katherine, thanks Jack," he said with a smile.

"Now as the only straight person we know in the room," Katherine said, looking at Les. "How does pride styled frappes sound to you?"

Les thought about it for a minute. "Would it make Davey stop griping about Stonewall?"

"Probably not," Jack and Katherine said at the same time.

Les shrugged. "I guess but you gotta include a straight drink too. I wanna order something for my people as well."

"Crutchie's already one step ahead of you," Katherine said.

"Wait, is you straight too?" Les asked, excited.

Crutchie shook his head. "Sorry, nope."

Les pouted. "Man, I was tired of being the only one."

"Kinda sucks, doesn't it, kid?" Crutchie asked.

Yeah it does!" Les exclaimed. "Oh, wait is this how you guys always feel?"

"Yes," they all answered together.

"Oh," Les said. "I bet that must piss you guys off."

"Hey, watch your damn mouth, kid," Jack said in a mock serious tone.

"Make me, Jacky boy!" Les snapped, leaning forward in his seat, ready to throw hands.

"Alright, calm down short stop," Race said, gently pushing him back.

Les pouted, but didn't make any further arguments.

"What's going on out here?" Davey asked, coming back out to the coffee shop from the back office.

"We'se just discussing doing pride drinks as our next big thing," Race said quickly. "What do you think?"

"Hmm, I like that idea," Davey said. "What do you think, Katherine?"

"I already approved it," Katherine said. "We should do something in the eatery for it as well. Maybe rainbow cupcakes?"

"I like it," Davey said. "And at dinner we can have special pride non-coffee drinks? I'll have to get to work on figuring out the recipes for them."

"I can help, shall we discuss this in the office?" Katherine suggested.

"Yeah, I'll need to write some of this down," Davey agreed. "If you guys come up with any more idea, stop by the office and let us know."

"No problem," Jack said, waving as they left.

"Well, I gotta go," Les said, getting up from his seat. "Sarah'll be waiting for me at the bus stop."

"Tell her I say hello and you suck," Jack said.

"Leave me out of your little rivalry," Les argued, grabbing his bag he dropped on the floor when coming in and heading out.

"What a good kid," Jack said, watching Les leave.

"Yeah, so maybe try not to corrupt him," Race joked, working on a new drink order.

"Hey Crutchie, you seem awfully quiet," Specs noted, waving his hand in front of Crutchie's face.

"What? Oh, sorry," Crutchie said, feeling distracted.

"Something bothering you?" Jack asked, sounding concerned.

"No, everything's peachy," Crutchie said with a smile.

Jack didn't buy it, but he didn't press the matter. Instead, he went back to work, fixing drinks for customers and handing out pastries.

Crutchie stayed until late, Spot already promising to give him a ride back to his dorm. The shop was mostly empty now, and everyone had started to clean up. Crutchie was still sitting at his stool at the counter, watching as Jack cleaned out the coffee filters.

"Hey Jack," Crutchie asked, looking down at his hands.

"Yeah, Crutchie?" Jack asked, throwing away the dirty filters.

"You, uh, dated a lot of people, huh?" he commented, feeling his cheeks warm.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that," Jack said, shrugging. "Why?"

"I'se just wondering," Crutchie started, unsure of if he wanted to continue further with his thoughts. "You ain't . . . gonna just break up with me after a few months, right?"

Jack looked at him, incredulous. "Course not, why would you think such a thing?" Jack asked.

"I don't know," Crutchie said. "It just seemed like earlier, when everyone was talking, that you don't really like sticking around for long," he admitted, feeling silly for even bringing this up.

Jack frowned. "Yeah, I'se not the best with relationships," he admitted. "But those all had reasons for not working out. Sarah and I just didn't get along. Plus, she realized while dating me that she was a lesbian, anyways. Davey and I, we'se just buds. Dating was an entire mistake all on its own. Kath and I . . . it was nice, but it wasn't right somehow. We fought a lot and neither of us were too happy in the relationship for the most part. Everyone else wasn't even real. Not like, a real relationship with real feelings, you know?"

"And what if this ain't real between us?" Crutchie asked, feeling a pit in his stomach.

Jack leaned forward, looking around to make sure no one was too close to hear. "You wanna know a secret?" he asked.

Crutchie nodded slowly, unsure.

Jack paused, thinking carefully about his next words. "I ain't never once before told someone I loved them," he admitted. "Not one person. You'se the first I ever said that to. And you know, I meant it. Every word of it. I don't say that too lightly, mainly because I still don't know I even believe in this whole love thing. But I think that if it were real, it would feel a lot like loving you."

Crutchie didn't respond, he wasn't sure how. He just gaped up at Jack, eyes sparkling with something like tears, but not quite at that point yet.

Jack sighed, leaving form behind the counter and coming around to face Crutchie properly. Without a single word, he picked Crutchie up from his seat and placed him on the countertop, ignoring Crutchie's protests.

"You hear me?" Jack said, leaning in close to Crutchie's face. "You'se the best thing to ever happen to me. And I ain't letting that get away no time soon. So, don't you worry about nothing that happened in the past. All that matters is what happens here and now. You got that?"

Crutchie nodded, feeling his face flush. Jack leaned in and planted a kiss on Crutchie's lips, lingering for a while. Crutchie kissed back, raising his hand to tangle his fingers in Jack's hair, pulling him closer.

"Ow, get it Jacky-boy!" Race hooted from the other side of the coffee shop, the sounds of cheers from the other boys being heard as well.

"Shut up," Jack said, pulling away from Crutchie and pointing an unkind finger at them.

"You better not be dirtying up my shop in there!" Davey called from the back hallway, coming out to the main room. "Crutchie, you know the rules, get off the counter!"

"Jack's the one who put me up here," Crutchie protested, laughing.

"Oh sure, blame me why don't ya," Jack complained. "You'se the one who was pouting and giving me a reason to put you up there."

"I was pouting because of you," Crutchie pointed out.

"Well both of you stop that and Jack, get back to work, this shop won't clean itself," Davey yelled, nearly swatting at them with the broom in his hand.

"Alright, alright, hold your horses," Jack said, helping Crutchie down and getting back to work.

Crutchie smiled, watching as Jack and the others finished up work in the shop. He felt relieved by Jack's words, like everything could finally be okay, for real this time.

Maybe . . . just maybe, they would last the test of time after all.


	16. Chapter 16

"I'se taking a break, cover me," Race said, stepping out from behind the counter and heading towards the back.

"You better not be taking a smoking break," Jack called after him, finishing up the final touches on some latte art.

Race didn't answer, instead continuing on to the back and heading out the employee entrance, stepping into the back alley next to the shop. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one up, taking in a large puff. He had tried to kick the habit for some time now, and for a while he had, but lately it had been harder to keep off the stuff and he found himself needing a fix at least a couple times during the day. He tried to keep it a secret though. Jack knowing was one thing, but if Spot found out, he would have his head. That's why Race was sure to step a few yards away from the shop, ducking into the alley next door, just in case someone decided to step out.

It had been a few minutes, Race finishing his first cigarette and debating on a second, when he felt something skitter across his legs. Letting out a startled squeak, he jumped back and looked down at the ground, ready to fight whatever it was that had touched him.

What he hadn't expected to see was a very white, very fluffy cat with a large pink bow tied around its neck.

"What the hell?" Race muttered, putting away his pack and stepping forward to get a better look at the cat. The animal came close to him, rubbing its head against his legs again and purring softly. The cat looked up at him and meowed, pawing at him and clearly wanting something.

"Great, just great," Race said to himself, heading back to the shop and shouting through the door for Spot. In a few moments, Spot came running out in a huff, looking mighty worried.

"What's wrong?" he asked, fists clenched at his sides as if he were ready for a fight.

"Nothing's wrong, just come look at this," Race said, walking back over to the alleyway and indicating for Spot to follow. With a huff, Spot followed after him, not sure what to expect.

He also didn't expect to see the white fluffy cat purring against Race's ankles.

"One minute I was standing here, the next there was this thing rubbing at my feet," Race explained, a little annoyed.

Spot's eyes lit up. He reached down carefully, holding out an experimental hand to the cat, who sniffed him curiously and then rubbed its head against his hand. Spot smiled and promptly picked up the cat, holding it in his arms like a small child.

"Why hello, beautiful," Spot cooed. "Aren't you a handsome kitty."

Race blinked, completely thrown off by Spot's change in demeanor. "You like cats?" he asked, surprised.

"Course I like cats, who doesn't?" Spot asked, his voice returning to its usual gruff state.

Race shrugged. "I just never pegged you for a cat guy," he admitted.

"Let's see if someone has a tag," Spot said to the cat, his voice once again taking on that unfamiliar sweet tone. He looked the cat over and found a small heart shaped pink tag with a name and a 'please return to me' message underneath.

"Cube," Spot read. "What the hell kind of name is Cube?"

"Does it have a return address?" Race asked, trying to get a look at it.

"Nah, it just says 'please return to me' whoever 'me' is," Spot said, shrugging.

"We should probably try and find its owners, then," Race said.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold up, not so fast," Spot said. "There ain't no rush. Look, let's take it home, give it some food and water, and then we can worry about finding its owners."

"You just want to keep it," Race pointed out.

"I do not," Spot argued. "I just think that it's probably had a rough day and needs some time to relax before setting off in the world again." Spot adjusted the cat in his arms, getting a better hold of it. "First of all, let's see if it's a boy or a girl," he said, holding the cat at an odd angle, trying to get a look. The cat hissed and tried to swipe at Spot's face, but just barely missed him.

"It's a girl," Spot confirmed, adjusting the cat and holding her in a more comfortable position again. The cat began to purr, snuggling closer into Spot's arms.

"How are we gonna find its owner?" Race asked.

"We'll put up flyers or something, I don't know," Spot said. "It's gotta live in the area, or else someone would have picked it up by now. Look, I'll clock out early today, take her home and get her comfy, then tonight we can worry about making flyers, alright?"

"You sure you can clock out early?" Race asked.

"Sure, I'se already taking extra hours, and Romeo, Blink, Mush, and Henry are all in there today. It's a little crowded, in fact. Davey won't care if I step out for the afternoon."

"Whatever you say, just don't get too attached," Race warned him.

"I won't I won't," Spot assured him. He paused, sniffing the air. "You smell smoke?" he asked.

Race froze. "No," he answered quickly.

"No, I definitely smell smoke," Spot said, hefting the cat up further in his arms and taking a step closer to Race. "You ain't been smoking again, has you?"

"No," Race answered, far too quickly.

"Empty your pockets," Spot told him.

Race shook his head. "I ain't got nothing in 'em," he explained.

"Then you won't have a problem emptying them for me," Spot told him, his voice low.

Race groaned and emptied his pockets, pulling out the pack of cigarettes.

"Dammit Race, what have I told you about that," Spot groaned, giving him a hard look.

"It's just one pack, I ain't even smoking that much," Race explained, though he was lying through his teeth.

"You'se lying and you know it," Spot growled. "Give me the box."

Race didn't hand it over, instead he just stood there, still.

"I said hand over the box," Spot repeated, more intently this time.

"It's just one pack, it ain't that much," Race said, almost pleading.

Spot didn't listen, instead making a grab for the box and ripping it out of Race's hands. He put it in his pocket and headed off to his car. "Clock out for me, would ya!" he called over his shoulder, not bothering to look at Race as he did so. Race groaned, but did as he was told, clocking out for Spot and returning to work.

"What took you so long?" Jack asked when Race returned.

"Nothing, you'll find out tonight," Race grumbled, adjusting his apron and getting back to work.

Jack gave him a look but didn't press the matter further, nothing Race's sour mood. He supposed he would just figure it out tonight when he got back to Spot and Race's place, whatever that meant.

* * *

"You got . . . a cat?" Jack asked, staring in shock at the cat in Spot's arms.

"Race found it outside the shop," Spot explained. "Her name is Cube."

"And . . . you took it home why?" Jack asked, still not following the situation.

"We thought we would take care of it and try and find its owners," Race explained, setting down his bag on the table.

"In the meantime, I'se discovered she likes to be held and rubbed and occasionally brushed," Spot informed them.

"Brushed? Whose brush did you use to figure this out?" Race asked.

"Yours," Spot answered, matter of fact.

"You what?" Race asked, incredulous. He immediately ran to their room and rummaged through his stuff until he found his brush, full of little white hairs.

"Damn you, Conlon," Race seethed, stepping back into the living room.

"Payment for ruining your lungs," Spot told him, rubbing the cat softly and cooing at her.

"Ruining your lungs?" Jack asked. "You ain't smoking again, are you?"

Race groaned. "Thanks Spot, what a great pal you are."

"I'se just trying to look out for you," Spot argued. "Since you don't do that for yourself, clearly."

"I take care of myself just fine," Race snapped. "It's not like I'se doing drugs or nothing."

"Nah, you'se just gonna give yourself lung disease or some shit," Spot complained.

"My lungs are fine," Race stated, crossing his arms.

"Look if you two are gonna argue, could you do it somewhere where I don't sleep?" Jack asked, a yawn escaping him. "Seriously, take it to your room."

"Shut up, Jack, this ain't your home," Race snapped, annoyed.

"No, Kelly's right," Spot said, getting up from the couch. "And for all intents and purposes, this is his home. Now calm down and let's discuss this in our room."

"I ain't discussing nothing," Race muttered, storming off to their room and slamming the door in Spot's face.

Spot exchanged a look with Jack, who only shrugged in response. Spot groaned and carefully opened the door, still holding the cat in his arms. When he entered the room, he gently put the cat down on the floor and closed the door behind him.

"You were out of line out there," Spot said to Race, who was curled up on the bed, his back towards Spot.

"Go away," Race mumbled, sounding more upset than Spot had expected.

Spot sighed, sitting down on the bed next to him. "Okay, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Race muttered, though the tone of his voice would say otherwise.

"I ain't buying that, something's clearly wrong," Spot said. "Talk to me, Race."

"You didn't have to get snappy with me earlier," Race said quietly.

"You mean earlier today?" Spot asked. "I wasn't snappy with you, I was just disappointed."

"Yeah, well your disappointment was unappreciated," Race told him.

"Race, what's really bothering you?" Spot asked, concern in his voice. "It ain't just about me being snappy or taking the cigarettes. Something's up. What is it?"

Race was quiet, curling up tighter into a ball in lieu of an answer.

"Race, look at me," Spot commanded.

"No," Race mumbled.

"Alright, then I'll just have to come around there," Spot said, climbing on top of him and planting himself on Race's side, face inches away from Race's.

"Get off," Race complained, trying to shove him away, but Spot was far bigger than him and couldn't be budged.

"Not until you tell me what's wrong," Spot said, stroking the side of Race's face lightly with his hand.

Race smacked his hand away, a dejected look on his face.

"I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong," Spot said patiently, bringing his face closer to Race's, so that their noses almost touched.

Race groaned, trying once again to shove Spot away, but making no headway.

"It ain't nothing," Race said after a few moments. "It's just . . . I ain't been feeling too good lately."'

Spot frowned. "What do you mean?" he asked. "You ain't getting sick, are you?"

"No, not like that," Race explained. "I just, I ain't been feeling right."

"Is it anxiety again?" Spot asked, his voice taking on a serious tone.

Race shrugged. "I don't know," he admitted. "But I don't feel good and, I don't know, smoking is just a good release from it all."

"It ain't good for you, though," Spot argued. "I plan on annoying you for a good long time, and how am I supposed to do that if you'se gonna go get yourself killed before we turn fifty?"

"What makes you think we'll be together that long?" Race asked.

"What makes you think we won't?" Spot shot back.

"You'se gonna get tired of my shit eventually," Race muttered, not looking at him.

"Like what? Your attitude? Guess what, I have one too," Spot said. "Or do you mean your bad habits? Cause I got those as well."

"Your habits ain't nearly as bad as mine," Race told him.

"Maybe not, but that don't matter," Spot said. "What matters is that I'se already decided I was gonna stick by you, no matter what. And I expect the same in return. I don't care if you got issues, we all got issues. But I ain't backing out, no way."

Race didn't respond, still not meeting his eyes.

"Why don't you tell me what you'se anxious about?" Spot suggested. "Talk it out."

Race shook his head. "I don't want to talk about it."

Spot rested his forehead against Race's, making a face. "You'se worrying me, Race," Spot said. "You'se worrying me a lot."

"You'll get over it," Race muttered.

Spot rolled off of him, sighing. He got up off the bed and picked up the cat off the floor, planting her on the bed beside Race. "At least look at this cat," he said. "She'll make it worth your while."

Race absentmindedly pet the cat, listening to her as she purred softly. Spot laid back down on the bed beside Race, spooning him and wrapping his arms around Race's stomach. Race just continued to pet the cat, ignoring Spot for the time being.

"We can't keep the cat," Race said after a few minutes of silence.

"I know," Spot said.

"Because she ain't ours," Race added, still petting her affectionately.

"I know," Spot said again.

"So, don't go getting attached," Race continued.

"I know," Spot repeated.

Race was quiet again for some time. Eventually, he slowly turned over, facing Spot. "You ain't mad at me, are you?" he asked quietly.

"Course I ain't mad," Spot said. "Like I said, just disappointed."

"Why are you disappointed?" Race asked.

"Because I care about you, idiot," Spot said. "And I want to see you taking care of yourself."

Race nodded. "I'se sorry," he said. "I'll try to do better, I promise."

"That's all I ask," Spot said. "And if you mess up that's fine, but next time just come talk to me, okay?"

Race nodded. "Yeah, okay," he said.

"Now, come here," Spot said, pulling Race close and planting a kiss on his lips. Race smiled, kissing him back and wrapping his arms around him. Spot pulled away after a minute, looking Race in the eyes and gently caressing his cheek with his thumb.

"That's gay," Race muttered, smiling.

"Oh, shut up," Spot said, kissing him again. Before he knew it, Spot was on top of him again, kissing him fervently. Race gasped as Spot moved down to his neck, occasionally biting and making Race nearly laugh.

"See, I know how to cheer you up," Spot said, smirking and moving further down to Race's collarbone.

"Would you shut up and just keep doing that," Race said, unable to handle looking at that smirk. He wrapped his arms around Spot's neck and held his head down against him. Spot obliged, continuing to bite along his collarbone, occasionally sucking softly.

Race closed his eyes, allowing the bliss to spread throughout his body. His mind had gone blank, and the only thing that registered to him was how close Spot was against him, how his hands moved all over his body, grabbing everywhere. The next thing Race knew Spot's lips were crashing against his once again, and it seemed like they just couldn't get close enough. Race tangled his fingers in Spot's hair, grabbing for his back with his free hand. He needed to be closer, oh so much closer. He needed to be so close that the only thing that existed in his mind was Spot, and all of his worries and anxieties could be washed away.

But the moment didn't last. Before either of them had a chance to react, the cat suddenly jumped on Spot's back and began pawing at him, demanding attention.

Spot stopped what he was doing and craned his neck to look back at the cat, now pawing at his face.

Spot looked back at Race, and both of them burst out laughing. "Guess that means no more of this tonight," Spot said, carefully getting off of Race and moving to grab the cat off his back, holding her closely to his chest.

Race petted her head. "You little killjoy," he joked, rubbing her affectionately as she purred into his hand.

"We'se gonna have to find her owners, ain't we?" Spot asked, a little disappointed.

"What did I say about getting attached?" Race asked, laughing.

"I ain't attached," Spot argued. "I just really like cats, is all."

"I'll get you cat as soon as we return this one," Race said, smiling at him.

"Promise?" Spot asked.

"Promise," Race agreed.

Spot leaned in and planted a single kiss to Race's lips, lingering only for a moment before pulling away. He knew things hadn't been resolved, but at least he had provided Race with a distraction for now. Though he would have to figure this out later, for sure. Race wasn't getting off that easily, no.

Whatever had him so anxious, Spot hoped he would be able to help solve it.


	17. Chapter 17

It was a warm Sunday afternoon. Jack and Crutchie were sitting around the table at Spot and Race's apartment, playing cards when Spot and Race entered through the door.

"How did it go?" Jack asked as they came inside.

Spot sighed. "I miss her already," he said, dejected.

"So, you was able to find her owner after all?" Crutchie asked.

"Yeah, we found a bunch of flyers posted around the area, all of them looked different, mind you, so it was hard to tell that they was of the same cat. Someone hand drew every single one of 'em, and some of them looked mighty weird" Race explained. "Anyways, after calling the number left on the flyers several times we finally got in touch with this guy who told us to meet him on some street corner. He was a real shabby dude who looked all skittish and tried to take Cube the second we showed up, but Spot had some questions for him before giving her back, just to make sure this was the right guy and all. Turns out, it was the guy's therapy cat, and we both ended up feeling pretty bad about keeping her for so long. Poor guy seemed a mess without her."

"Yeah, turns out the guy works at Aperture Café down the street," Spot explained. "Gave us a few gift cards and everything for free cake or something. The guy was real nice once we gave Cube back to him, was even polite after we told him we worked at Jacobi's. Got me thinking Davey and Katherine exaggerate the whole 'evil café' thing they got against all the competition in this area."

"All in all it was good to get the cat back to her rightful owner but we'se both pretty upset to lose her after only a few days," Race said. "So, we was gonna go by the shelter and pick up a new cat. Spot insisted."

"Can we come too?" Crutchie asked excitedly. "I wanna meet cute little cats too!"

"You can't keep one," Jack warned him, shuffling the cards and putting them back into their box.

Crutchie pouted. "But I want one," he whined.

"You live in a college dorm, only way you can get that approved is if it was a therapy pet," Jack explained.

Crutchie made a sad face, but nodded. "Fine," he said. "But I still wanna go and look."

"I don't see any problem with that," Race said, looking at Spot.

"I guess we'se just gonna make a day of it," Spot said, sighing. "Kelly, you coming too?"

"Someone's gotta keep an eye on this kid," Jack said, reaching across the table to ruffle Crutchie's hair.

"Then, let's go," Race said, clapping his hands together.

The four of them piled into Spot's car, all pulling out their phones and looking up the nearest and best shelters in the area. Eventually they decided on one and headed out that way, making good time and getting there after about twenty minutes' drive.

When they arrived, they all jumped out of the car and headed inside, asking the lady at the front desk where the cats could be found. They were directed to a large room full of little cat beds and scratching posts, but most importantly full of cats.

Spot and Crutchie's eyes both went wide at the sight, the two of them taking little time to get acclimated to the environment and start picking up different cats and petting them. There were cats of all sizes, ages, and colors, most meowing for attention, but some just simply ignoring the four humans in the room, content to continue taking their naps or grooming themselves.

"Look, this one only has one eye," Jack said, holding up an orange tabby. "It's just like Kid Blink."

"Hey Jack, look, it's me!" Crutchie said, holding up a black three-legged kitten.

Jack laughed. "It's you as a cat," he agreed.

"Oh, so when Crutchie says something like that it's okay," Race argued. "But when I say it it's 'offensive' and I need to go to 'sensitivity training'."

"Let me see the kitty," Spot said, going up to Crutchie and taking the kitten from his hands, gently. The kitten purred as Spot held it, snuggling into his arms.

"This is the one," Spot said firmly. "I want this one."

"What do you want with a three-legged cat?" Race asked. "It's gonna make a terrible guard animal."

"I beg to differ," Spot said. "We can train it to attack strangers; get it a little makeshift leg or something, I don't know. We can call it Mini Crutchie."

"I like it!" Crutchie said, beaming.

"Mini for short," Jack said.

"Is it a girl or a guy?" Race asked.

Spot carefully checked. "It's a girl," he said. "Female Mini Crutchie."

"So, it's settled, then," Jack said. "Now you just gotta learn how to take care of a cat."

"It ain't that hard, I'se had a cat before," Spot pointed out.

"You'se had a pet before?" Crutchie asked. "I never pictured you as a pet person."

"It was technically my mom's cat, but I took care of it mostly," Spot explained.

"Can we look at the other animals too, Jack?" Crutchie asked, bouncing on his feet. "I wanna see the dogs as well."

"Sure, I don't see why not," Jack said. "Let's go find the dogs."

The two of them headed out the room in search of the dogs. When they found the puppy room, Crutchie immediately went inside, met with dozens of puppies suddenly crowding around him, all trying to jump on him at once and get petted.

"Whoa, whoa, calm down little ones," Crutchie said, laughing. "I only got one free hand to pet you all with, one at a time."

It was all a little too much excitement for the dogs, and before Crutchie knew it, he was being swarmed by them, all trying to jump on him at once and, eventually, knocking him to the ground. The dogs continued to swarm him, all trying to lick his face and seek affection at the same time. Crutchie was laughing, holding up his arms to try and protect himself from the swarm of puppies, but having little luck. He was overcome.

When Jack entered the room he immediately tried to help Crutchie back to his feet, shooing the dogs away with his foot. However, it was a harder task than one would think, as all the puppies were still gathered around Crutchie, not allowing him to stand. Eventually, the two of them just settled for both sitting on the floor with the puppies together, petting as many as they could at one time.

"I want ten," Crutchie said, matter of fact.

"You can't have any," Jack told him.

"But I want them all," Crutchie whined.

"Maybe one day when you ain't living in a dorm," Jack suggested. "Then you can get all the pets you want."

Crutchie thought about that. "I still gotta figure out where I'se living this summer," he said thoughtfully.

"Hmm," Jack hummed. "Why don't we get a place together?"

"What?" Crutchie asked, confused.

"It would be great," Jack said. "I should be getting a full-time position at the shop soon, and it would be cheaper for you to start living off campus instead of in a dorm, it would be perfect!"

"I don't know," Crutchie said. "My scholarships cover dorm expenses, I don't know if they would cover anything off campus."

"See if you can't maybe work something out," Jack suggested. "At the very least you need a place to live during the summer, so it would be something."

Crutchie nodded in agreement, scratching one of the puppies that had gotten in his lap behind the ears. "That would be nice," he mused.

"Say you'll consider it," Jack said eagerly.

Crutchie smiled. "I'll consider it," he responded.

Jack broke out into a grin. "Good," he said.

While the two of them played with the puppies, Spot went to ask about buying the kitten, going up to the front desk to do all the proper paperwork needed to adopt her. When he was done, he walked back to the cat room, looking for Race, but he wasn't there. Spot looked around a few more rooms, stopping by the dog room to ask Jack and Crutchie if they had seen him, but they both shook their heads in response.

Spot groaned and left the room, holding the kitten carefully in his arms as he searched around the rest of the shelter. Eventually, he decided to check outside, finding Race standing by the side of the building, looking down at his phone with an expression that Spot could only consider as distraught.

"What's the matter with you?" Spot asked, coming up to him. Race looked up from his phone, quickly putting it away. "Nothing," he answered, far too quickly.

"That don't look like nothing," Spot said, looking him over carefully. "Something wrong?"

"It's nothing," Race said. "Did you get the cat?"

"Yeah, she's all adopted and ready to go," Spot answered. "I'd say we could head out but Jack and Crutchie are too busy being lover boys in the dog room right now and I don't think we could get them up just yet."

"Well, they'se gonna have to be ready to go soon," Race said. "We got places to be."

"What's been up with you lately?" Spot asked. "You'se been real on edge and impatient."

"Nothing's up," Race argued. "I'se just been stressed out, okay?"

"Why, though?" Spot asked. "If something's up, you should tell me."

"It ain't nothing," Race assured him. "Let's just get the boys and head home, alright?"

Spot gave him a hard look. "We'se gonna talk about this later," he said.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Race muttered.

They went back inside to get Jack and Crutchie, which was a harder task than initially thought, as none of the dogs were ready to relinquish their new friends. After several minutes of coaxing (and a nearly teary-eyed Crutchie), they finally left the shelter and headed to the nearest pet store to pick up supplies for the new kitty. Once that was done, they headed back to the apartment.

"Hey Jack, give Crutchie a ride home, would ya?" Spot said, tossing Jack the keys as they stepped out of the car.

"Aw, can't he stay tonight?" Jack asked, his tone whiny.

"He's already stayed the past couple of nights," Spot argued. "His roommate's gonna start to think he's dead or something."

"He's already threatened to give away my bed," Crutchie pointed out.

"Alright," Jack said, hopping into the front seat of Spot's car, Crutchie getting into the passenger. They drove off, while Spot and Race headed inside with the kitty and all the supplies needed (Race doing most of the heavy carrying, as Spot was holding the kitten).

"I swear, those two have become practically inseparable," Spot noted, stepping inside.

"They'se still in the honeymoon phase," Race said. "It'll all come crashing down before you know it."

"Why you gotta be so cynical?" Spot asked, sitting down on the floor with the kitten and petting her head softly. She purred, curling up in his lap.

"I ain't, I'se just being realistic," Race argued. "They'se gonna get tired of each other eventually and it's gonna be a shit-show, I tell ya."

"What makes you think that?" Spot asked. "That didn't happen with us?"

Race sat down on the floor next to him. "Just trust me on this. They'se gonna get into it one day."

"Race, what's wrong?" Spot asked, for what felt like the millionth time this past week. "Something's seriously up with you lately. You ain't normally like this."

Race groaned. "Ain't nothing wrong with me," he argued. "I told you I ain't been feeling too good lately, but that ain't nothing to worry about."

"Well I am worrying about it," Spot said. "And so is Mini Crutchie here," he added, holding up the kitten to Race's face, trying to get a reaction out of him.

Race just stared at the kitten blankly. "If you'se trying to coax something out of me it ain't gonna work," Race said. "I ain't got nothing to coax out."

"Don't lie to Mini," Spot warned him. "She'll cry."

"I ain't lying!" Race argued. "I'se telling the truth, nothing's wrong."

Just then Race's phone began to buzz.

"Who's that?" Spot asked, setting the kitten back down in his lap.

"No one," Race said, picking up his phone to look at the message.

"Then why do you have that look on your face?" Spot challenged, noting Race's concerned expression.

"There ain't no look on my face," Race argued. "It's just my face."

"No, that's your 'oh shit' look," Spot pointed out. "You had that look on your face earlier today too. Who's been texting ya? It ain't your parents, is it?"

"No, it ain't them," Race assured him. "It's no one."

"Doesn't seem like no one," Spot said.

"Get off my case," Race told him. "If I say it ain't no one, then I mean it."

"You sound just like Jack, you know that?" Spot pointed out. "He said the same thing over and over again. 'It ain't nothing', but guess what? It was something. Now forgive me if I don't believe you, but the similarities are uncanny. Now what's going on? Racer, please tell me."

Race was quiet. "It. Ain't. Nothing," he eventually said, staring Spot hard in the eyes.

Spot sighed. "Whatever you say," he said, getting up. He set the kitten down carefully on the floor and began to fix her some food, pulling out one of the cans of wet food and fixing it into a bowl. He brought it back, along with a bowl of water and set it on the floor for the kitten, who ate the food happily.

"Good Mini," Spot said, scratching her behind her ears. "Hey Race, why don't you make yourself useful and set up her litter box?"

"Why do I have to do that?" Race asked.

"Because I said so," Spot answered. "Mini needs you to do this. You don't want to disappoint her, do you?"

Race groaned. "Fine, whatever," he said, getting up. He set up the litter box in the corner of the room, far enough away from where Jack slept on the floor and his things.

"Thank you," Spot said when Race had finished. Race just shrugged, sitting back down on the floor next to him.

They sat quietly for a while, Spot still stroking the kitten's head as she ate her food. He smiled softly, and Race couldn't help but feel his heart flutter in his chest at the sight. Spot was often so stoic, but seeing him with the kitten showed another side of him, a side that often only Race saw. He was gentle and kind, though he would rarely let anyone else know that. Despite his sour state, Race couldn't help but smile as he watched Spot carefully caress the kitten.

But the smile didn't last for long. The messages on his phone were still there, and Spot was still cross with him. If he knew what those messages said, he would be even more cross. Race frowned, feeling the sick feeling rise back in his chest. Promptly, he got up to his feet, and headed to the door to their room.

"Where you going?" Spot called after him.

"To take a nap," Race said, closing the door behind him.

Spot frowned, but didn't make any moves to argue with him. He would get to the bottom of this for sure, but right now the best thing to do would probably be to give Race his space. Besides, he had a kitten to look after right now. He could bug Race later.

Spot thought this, but it didn't put away the worry in his mind. Whatever was wrong, it was something serious. He was afraid to figure out what it was, but he knew that in order to help the one he loved the most, he would have to face whatever nightmarish situation was plaguing him.

Spot hoped it wasn't as bad as he assumed.


	18. Chapter 18

**Trigger warning for attempted non-con.**

"That'll be one vanilla chai latte," Race called, setting the cup down on the counter. The cup was taken by the appropriate customer and Race got to work on the next drink.

"I spy with my little eye something . . . yellow," Jack said, looking around the shop emphatically.

Crutchie thought for a minute. "Hmm," he hummed to himself. "Is it the sun?"

"Can't see the sun in here," Jack said, laughing.

"Is it that painting on the wall over there?" Crutchie asked, pointing to a painting on the wall of a yellow teacup.

"Nope," Jack said, grinning from ear to ear.

"Is it my textbook?" Crutchie asked, holding up his book.

"Nope," Jack said, practically bouncing.

"I give up," Crutchie said, defeated.

"It's your voice," Jack exclaimed proudly.

"Okay, that don't count," Crutchie said, leaning forward in his seat. "Just because you have synesthesia and can see color in sounds doesn't mean the rest of us can. And besides, didn't you say you can't physically see it, that's it's more like an impression anyways?"

"Well, sometimes it's like I can see it," Jack said. "If it's strong enough, like your voice. And it totally counts because it's something I can see with my eyes. Doesn't have to be something I see with yours."

"Whatever, it's my turn now," Crutchie said. "I spy with my little eye something . . . red."

"The clock on the wall over there," Jack said, pointing.

"Dammit, how did you know?" Crutchie asked.

"Cause you looked right at it," Jack said. "You ain't too good at this game, are you?"

"Shut up," Crutchie said, not being able to help but grin.

"Hey Jack, how's about you stop flirting for two seconds and help me with these drink orders," Race snapped at him, fixing another drink.

"Yeah, yeah," Jack said, leaving the counter and grabbing a cup to start preparing the order.

The doorbell rang and in sauntered a new customer. "Welcome to Jacobi's Coffee and Eatery," Race said, looking up to see the customer and immediately dropping the drink the was making.

Before the customer got a chance to look at him, Race had ducked down beneath the counter, hiding. "What the hell are you doing?" Jack asked, nudging Race lightly with his foot.

"Shh," Race shushed him. "He can't know I'se here."

"Who can't?" Jack asked, confused.

"Him," Race hissed.

"Him who?" Jack hissed back.

"The guy who just walked in, him," Race explained.

"Hello, can I order a coffee?" a new voice asked.

Race squeaked, scurrying behind the counter to the other side, trying to get as far away from the register as he could.

"Uh, sure, what can I getcha?" Jack asked the customer, a young man with short dirty blond hair and a leather jacket on.

"I'll get a white mocha," the customer ordered. "Oh, and I have a question for you. I'm looking for someone who works here. Uh, an Anthony Higgins; you know him?"

Jack looked at Crutchie, who shook his head ever so slightly. "Nope, never heard of him," Jack said, shrugging. "Maybe try Aperture Café or Black Mesa Brewery down the street. They'se got Higgins, I'se sure."

"No, I'm pretty sure he worked at this coffee shop," the customer said. "At least, I've already been to those places and they told me to look elsewhere."

"Have you tried Starbucks?" Jack asked, trying to be conversational.

"Been there too, this is my last stop," the customer answered.

"Well, there's no Higgins here," Jack said, shrugging again. "Sorry pal. I'll get your drink in a minute."

Jack carefully stepped around Race, who was still hiding on the floor, as he moved to make the drink. Race crawled further away from the register, making his way to the far side of the behind the counter space. Carefully, he got up from behind the counter and made a dash for the eatery, luckily not being seen by the customer.

Spot had been working hard all day, taking order after order and just barely making it through the lunch rush without losing his head on a customer. It had been a long day and he was already getting tired even though it was only half passed two in the afternoon. Going back into the kitchen, he made his way to the fridge to grab something for Tommy boy, and nearly had a heart attack when he found Race huddled down in a corner inside.

"Race, what the hell are you doing in here?" Spot asked, walking over to him and kneeling down so that he was face to face with him.

"He's here," Race hissed, eyes darting around the fridge nervously.

"Who's here?" Spot asked, confused.

"Him," Race said, as if that made all of the sense in the world.

"I'se not following, Race, you'se gonna have to give me more details than that," Spot said, slightly annoyed.

"I can't say who, it's just him," Race spat out the words as if they tasted sour. "He's in the coffee shop, asking for me."

"So, you hid in the fridge?" Spot asked, confused.

"He can't know I'se here," Race said, shaking his head. "He can't find me."

"It can't be that bad," Spot said, patting his shoulder reassuringly. "It ain't some angry customer who's order you got wrong, ain't it?" Spot joked.

"You don't understand," Race said quickly. "We can't run into each other. It'll be bad. Just bad."

"Why's that?" Spot asked, confused.

"Just trust me, alright?" Race asked, voice almost quivering. "He can't find me."

"Alright, alright, just calm down," Spot said. "I'll go make sure he's gone."

"Jack and Crutchie know who it is," Race said. "I ain't coming out of here until he's left."

"Alright, I'll be back in a minute," Spot said, getting up from the floor and walking out of the fridge. He made his way into the coffee shop, finding Crutchie talking with a stranger.

"And that's why it's called upstage and downstage," Crutchie was explaining.

"Fascinating," the stranger said, though sounding like he found it anything but.

"This kid's a genius, ain't he?" Jack said in a bragging tone, clearly displeased by the stranger's presence. Spot figured this must be the guy. Spot had never seen him before, but whoever it was, he scared the hell out of Race. What was so bad about him, anyways?

"Sure, if you consider knowledge of theatre history important," the stranger said, not even attempting to hide his disinterest.

"It's very important," Crutchie said, a little offended. "Theatre has always been and continues to be a huge platform for spreading truths about society and politics and pulling back the curtain on things otherwise not spoken of in public spaces. It's a place where people can come together and learn about what it means to be human, and grow together through stories and song."

"Yeah, yeah," the stranger said dismissively. "So, just to clarify, you sure there's no Higgins here at all? Maybe working on the other side of the shop?"

"For the last time, sir, there ain't no Higgins here," Jack said, getting annoyed.

"What's the problem here?" Spot asked, stepping in.

"Ah, you seem to be someone with some authority," the stranger said, taking in Spot's sight with renewed energy.

"I'se just a waiter," Spot clarified. "What's going on?"

"I'm looking for someone named Anthony Higgins, does he work back in the kitchen perhaps?" the stranger asked.

Spot shook his head. "Never heard of him," he said, looking the guy square in the eyes.

"Hmm, cause I was certain I heard that he worked at a coffee shop on this side of town," the stranger said. "And I've been to every other coffee shop but this one, so it has to be this one."

Spot shook his head again. "Ain't never heard of no Anthony Higgins," he said.

Suddenly, commotion could be heard coming from the eatery. Next thing they knew, Davey was tugging along a very flustered and struggling Race from the eatery, shoving him back towards the counter in the coffee shop.

"And stop hiding in the fridge, dammit!" Davey snapped, letting go of Race and stomping back to the office.

Race straightened his apron, glaring at Davey's back as he walked off to the office. He turned and made eye contact with the stranger for the first time, and for a moment Spot thought he saw true terror in Race's eyes.

"Anthony, I knew you were here," the stranger said, a broad smile spreading across his face.

"You'se back in town," Race said, trying to keep the shakiness out of his voice.

"Yeah, I wanted to see you," the stranger said. "It's been too long."

Race didn't respond, and there was an awkward silence that followed. "So," the stranger began, trying to be conversational. "How've you been?"

"Fine," Race bit out, not asking how the stranger was in return.

The stranger nodded. "Good," he said, smiling brightly. "We should get coffee sometime and catch up."

"I work every day," Race answered sharply.

"Oh, then maybe-"

"Look, as nice as this is we'se gotta get back to work," Jack interrupted. "Race, we'se got customers who need their coffee. Get to work."

Race nodded quickly, going behind the counter and helping the next person in line, grateful for an excuse to leave the situation.

"Now, we gotta job to do, so if you'se gonna be distracting our employees, I'se gonna have to ask you to leave," Spot said, crossing his arms.

"That seems a bit extreme, considering you weren't being truthful earlier," the stranger said, disappointment clear in his voice.

Spot frowned. "You got your coffee. Let our baristas do their job, or leave."

The stranger pouted, but turned on his heel and started to head towards the door. "I'll see you around, Anthony," he called before heading outside.

Race shuddered, trying to ignore him.

"What the hell was that about?" Jack asked, confusion riddled on his face.

"It's nothing Kelly, just let it go," Spot said, making his way behind the counter and walking up to Race, who still seemed out of sorts "You gonna be alright?" Spot asked him quietly.

Race nodded. "Just peachy," he said.

Spot nodded. "Alright," he said, leaving to go back to the eatery. "Shout if you need anything," he called behind him, exiting the coffee shop.

"Seriously Race, what was that about?" Jack asked, sounding almost concerned now.

"It was nothing Jack, mind your own damn business," Race muttered, working on a new drink order.

"I thought we was done with keeping secrets from each other?" Jack asked, his tone pointed.

"This ain't none of your business, so back off," Race warned him.

"Okay, alright, chill," Jack said, backing up a little. "Just, don't go and do nothing stupid, alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Race muttered.

"He's not leaving," Crutchie said quietly.

"What?" Jack asked, confused.

"Outside, across the street," Crutchie said. "He's still standing there."

"Shit," Race whispered under his breath.

"He's not a stalker, is he?" Jack asked, almost sounding worried now.

"No, nothing like that," Race said, though he didn't sound convincing.

"Standing outside your workplace seems like a stalkerish thing to do," Crutchie pointed out, still watching the stranger carefully.

"Just leave it alone, he'll go away eventually," Race assured them.

"You sure?" Jack asked.

"Positive," Race answered.

Jack shrugged. "Whatever you say," he said.

The rest of the work day dragged on, and eventually the stranger left his spot across the street. Race could finally breathe a breath of fresh air, and was able to focus better on his work. When his shift ended, he clocked out and headed outside, deciding to take the bus home since Spot still had a couple of hours left on his shift. He walked to the correct bus stop and waited, checking his phone to see how much longer he had to wait.

"Hey Anthony," a voice from behind him spoke.

Race jumped, spinning around in surprise.

"Mind if I walk you home?" the man asked, putting a hand on Race's shoulder.

Race shrugged him off. "No thanks, Josiah," he said. "I can manage on my own."

"You sure about that?" Josiah asked. "It's pretty late. I'd hate for you to have to walk all the way home by yourself."

"I'se fine," Race hissed.

"Whoa, whoa, calm down, I'm just trying to be helpful," Josiah said, putting up his hands in mock surrender.

"I don't need your help, now leave me alone," Race barked at him.

"Hey, what's your problem, anyways?" Josiah asked. "I'm trying to be polite, and this is how you treat me?"

Race felt a twinge of guilt, though he didn't know why. "I can walk myself home just fine," he muttered, not looking up at the man.

"Then let's just walk together for old times' sake," Josiah suggested. "After all, it's been what? A year now?"

Race nodded. "A year and a half almost," he said.

"So, what do you say?" Josiah asked. "May I join you tonight?"

Race didn't immediately answer, but eventually nodded his head slowly. He wanted to say no, he wanted to say anything but yes, but somehow, he just couldn't refuse this person.

The bus arrived and both men got on, sitting together in the back. They rode in relative silence, Josiah occasionally attempting at conversation, but Race refusing to respond much more than one word answers. When they arrived at their stop, the two got off the bus and headed back into the streets, making their way towards Race's apartment.

They reached the apartment complex after another ten minutes' walk, going up the stairs and standing in front of Race's door.

"This is my stop," Race mumbled, fumbling with his keys as he tried to unlock the door.

"Mind if I come in?" Josiah asked. "I'd love to catch up with you a bit."

Race stared at him for a moment. "I don't think that's a good idea," he started.

"Come on, just a few minutes won't hurt," Josiah said nonchalantly. "You're not hiding bodies in there, are you?"

Race groaned. "Fine, whatever. But just a few minutes, alright?" he said.

"Just a few minutes," Josiah agreed.

They two stepped inside to an empty apartment, save for the small kitten that came bounding up to them, as quickly as she could, as soon as they entered the door. Race bent down and picked her up, holding her carefully.

"I didn't know you liked cats," Josiah commented, walking into the living room and looking around the place.

"I don't," Race answered. "She's my roommate's."

"And how many roommates do you have?" Josiah asked.

"Two," Race answered.

"Do you sleep out here, then? I only see one bedroom," Josiah pointed out.

"No, I share with one of the roommates," Race said, matter of fact.

"Oh?" Josiah questioned. "So, you're seeing someone."

"Maybe I am," Race shot back.

"You know, we never officially broke up," Josiah pointed out. "That hurts that you would see other people like that."

"We stopped talking for over a year, I think that constitutes a breakup," Race muttered.

"And how long have you been seeing this person?" Josiah questioned. "Because if you're living together I'm gonna guess it's been a while. So, what? You got together right after you left school? Cause that's not enough time to constitute a breakup. That hurts, Anthony."

Race set down the kitten on the couch, straightening up. "Look, we were never officially together to begin with. And it ain't like you haven't been seeing people during this time, I'se sure."

"Never officially together?" Josiah questioned. "I beg to differ. It sure seemed like we were together, to me."

"Yeah, well that was then, and this is now," Race said. "And I think it's time you left."

"No, I'm not done yet," Josiah argued, taking a step closer to him. "What makes you think you can just walk away from our relationship like that? What makes you think you can start moving in with other people? That's the worst sort of betrayal, Anthony, and I want an apology."

"You ain't getting one cause I ain't sorry," Race argued back. "Now step off before I make you."

"Oh really? You think you can make me?" Josiah questioned, taking another step closer. "Try me, Anthony, just try me."

"I said to step off," Race warned, getting in his face. "Don't make me hurt you."

"I'd like to see you try," Josiah laughed. "Cause last I checked I'm stronger than you. You really wanna try going at it? Cause I won't hold back."

"Oh yeah?" Race challenged. "Give it your best shot!"

Before Race knew it, he was being shoved against the wall, Josiah's lips crashing against his own. There was nothing gentle about the kiss. It was needy, fervent. Race felt his mind go blank, and before he realized what was happening he was leaning into it, welcoming Josiah's intrusion.

Josiah's hands were traveling, wandering over every part of Race. He made no move to stop him, his mind too wrapped up in the moment. It wasn't until he felt Josiah's hands go for his belt that Race snapped out of it, immediately shoving his hands away.

"What the hell do you think you'se doing?" Race growled, glaring at him.

Josiah made a face. "I thought we were having a moment just now," he said, almost pouting. "You don't want to ruin the mood, do you?"

"Get out," Race said. "Now."

Josiah frowned. "Now Anthony, is that any way to treat your boyfriend?"

"We ain't together no more," Race told him. "We haven't been for a long time. Now get out!"

"Is that a threat?" Josiah asked, leaning close and grinning.

"Don't make it turn into one," Race warned him.

"I've always liked a challenge," Josiah said, pushing Race up against the wall again.

"Get off of me," Race snapped, trying to shove him away, but Josiah was stronger.

"Or what?" Josiah asked, a smirk on his face. "You're gonna cry out like you always do?"

"I said get off!" Race shouted, swinging for a punch and nailing Josiah right in the jaw. Josiah's head turned with the momentum of the punch, causing him to stumble back. Race reared back for another swing, but Josiah saw it coming and managed to dodge, grabbing Race's hand and twisting it, causing Race to cry out in pain.

"I could do this all day," Josiah laughed, pushing Race back up against the wall, getting in his face. "Just try me."

Race struggled to free his hand, but Josiah's grip was too tight. He turned his head as Josiah went in for another kiss, this time planting his lips against Race's neck. Race squirmed, trying to break free but having no success. Josiah's free hand wandered back down, looking for his belt. Race kneed him, but it wasn't enough to cause Josiah to let go. He thought about screaming, but he knew the door of his apartment was locked and it wouldn't do any good. He was going to have to fight his way out of it.

Just as Race was rearing back his head to slam into Josiah's, he heard the familiar sound of the door being unlocked, and before he knew it Spot and Jack were stepping inside, the smiles on their faces quickly turning to looks of confusion, and then surprise.

The room seemed to freeze. Spot and Jack were staring at Josiah and Race, while the two of them stared back. No one dared to move, Josiah still holding Race's hand in a death grip.

The first to regain some level of composure was Jack. "What the hell?" he breathed

Josiah let go of Race's wrist, stepping away from him. "I was just leaving," he said, starting to push past them, but stopped by Jack.

"Hold up one second," Jack said, his tone gone from surprise to now anger. "Who said you could leave?"

"Out of my way," Josiah snapped.

"Not until you tell us what the hell you'se doing here," Jack said, glaring up at him.

"Get out of my way," Josiah snapped again, shoving Jack back.

"Hey!" Spot said, grabbing Josiah by the collar and shoving him against the wall. "What the hell do you think you'se doing?"

"Let go of me, little man," Josiah warned, trying to shove Spot away, but Spot was too strong for him.

"Yeah, I'll let you go," Spot said, releasing him. "But if I ever see your face again you better pray to whatever you believe in that I'se in a good mood cause I ain't afraid to kill ya, you understand? Now get out of my home."

Josiah straightened his jacket, glaring down at Spot. He took one last look at Race before shoving past the other two and stepping outside, slamming the door behind him.

Spot immediately turned on Race. "What the fuck was that about?" he growled.

"It was nothing," Race said, turning and heading towards their room.

"Hey, don't you fucking walk away from me," Spot snapped, following after him and slamming the bedroom door shut in his face, blocking Race's escape. "What the hell was that about?"

"It was nothing," Race seethed, glaring down at Spot.

"It sure as hell didn't look like nothing," Spot said. "That was the guy from earlier today. What the hell was he doing here?"

"He wanted to walk me home, alright?" Race snapped impatiently.

"And you let him?" Spot asked.

"I couldn't say no!" Race shouted, throwing up his hands.

"And why not?" Spot snapped back.

"Because he's my boyfriend!"

Spot took a step back, his face blank. Race leaned up against the door, sliding to the floor and covering his face in his hands.

The room was silent for a minute, no one wanting to be the first to speak. Eventually, Spot broke the silence. "You wanna tell me what the hell that means?" he asked, kneeling down beside Race.

Race didn't move, not wanting to answer. "We dated in college," he eventually said, his voice muffled by his hands. "When I left, we never officially broke up. I just . . . pretended it didn't happen and never looked back."

"Is this who's been texting you and making you so anxious?" Spot asked, trying to keep his voice level.

Race nodded. "I didn't know what to do," he admitted, his voice cracking.

"You could have told me," Spot said, and the hurt in his voice was evident.

"How was I supposed to tell you that I ain't been truthful this whole time?" Race asked, his voice shaking now.

"How about you start from the beginning?" Spot suggested.

Race looked up at him; there were tears streaming down his face, and his whole body shook.

"Can it . . . can it wait till morning?" Race asked quietly.

Spot thought about it, looking over at Jack, who had been quietly standing in the corner. The two of them exchanged glances for a moment, Jack stiffly nodding at him.

Spot turned back to Race. "Yeah, it can wait," he decided. "Why don't you get some sleep, then we'll talk about it, okay?"

Race nodded. "Okay," he agreed, sniffling.

Spot got up, helping Race to bed. It was obvious he was too much of a mess tonight to talk, and Spot knew it would be better to wait until morning. Though he was afraid to hear what Race had to say. Boyfriend? What did that mean? Spot had never seen or heard of this person until today. What had Race been keeping from him all this time?

Spot shook his head. Whatever it was, he was going to find out in the morning. Whether Race liked it or not.


	19. Chapter 19

To say that Spot didn't get any sleep that night would have been an understatement. He lied awake the whole night, watching as Race slept and thinking about his words from earlier. There must be some sort of reasonable explanation to what he said, Spot was sure. Or at least he hoped. If there wasn't, what was he going to do? How would he react? Would he be angry? Upset? Hurt? He wouldn't leave him, Spot knew that much. But he didn't know just how he was going to respond to whatever explanation Race gave in the morning. Anger might be justified, but would it just make things worse? Spot didn't know. He supposed he would just play it by ear and see how his feelings decided to react to Race's words.

They didn't sleep too closely together that night, Race settling for curling up on the edge of the bed and Spot lying flat on his back on his side of the bed. They didn't say a word as they went to sleep, and Spot didn't do anything when he noticed Race tremble in his slumber. No, he wasn't going to engage with him until the morning, when Race was ready to explain things.

When the sun rose, Spot got out of bed and went out to the living room. He saw that Jack was gone, and so were Spot's keys. Damn that kid, Spot thought to himself. He supposed it was probably for the best. Jack didn't want to be around when things went down, and it was probably better that way. Race might be more willing to open up if it were just the two of them. Still, he had better at least fill the car up with gas while he was out.

It wasn't long before Race was awake, sleepily walking out of the bedroom and making his way to the kitchen for his morning coffee. Spot was sitting quietly on the couch with Mini, petting her head as she curled up in his lap.

"You'se up early," Spot noted. "You know it's Sunday, right?"

"Couldn't sleep," Race muttered, putting coffee grinds in the coffee maker.

"You seemed pretty out of it to me," Spot pointed out.

"I'se good at faking it," Race told him, adding the water.

Spot huffed. "You ready to talk or what?" he asked, getting to his feet and walking to the kitchen, still carrying Mini in his arms.

"Geez, Spot, I just got up," Race mumbled, turning on the coffee maker and going to grab a mug.

"Well as you just gladly mentioned you'se been up for a while," Spot pointed out. "So, let's talk."

Race groaned. "What do you want to know?" he asked, looking down at his mug.

"The truth," Spot said. "All of it."

Race sat down at the counter, Spot standing opposite of him. He continued looking at his empty mug for a while before eventually speaking. "We dated when I was still in school," Race explained. "It wasn't anything major, just a fling, you know? But it wasn't great and I wanted out. So, when I left school I just stopped talking to him and pretended like we had never been together. He tried to keep in contact with me for a while but eventually gave up when I stopped responding to his messages. He didn't know where I lived at the time nor where I worked, thankfully, so he had no way of finding me. That is, until now."

"And what changed?" Spot asked. "Why's he still looking for ya and how did he find ya?"

Race shrugged. "He's been texting me for a while now, trying to get back together. I'se been dodging his messages, but they'se hard to ignore sometimes. I eventually told him I worked at a shop in the area, but figured there was so many shops he'd never figure out which one. I didn't want to tell him, but, he just kept asking and I ain't no good at saying no."

"You have no trouble saying no to me," Spot said.

"You'se different," Race pointed out. "You ain't like him."

"And how is that?" Spot asked.

"You ain't . . . I don't know. You don't make people feel guilty for not doing what you want," Race explained.

"You mean I ain't manipulative," Spot clarified.

"Yeah, something like that," Race agreed.

"So, what? You was in a manipulative relationship with this guy and decided to get the hell out, and he never got the memo that things were over?" Spot asked.

Race nodded. "Something like that," he repeated.

"Why didn't you ever tell me about any of this?" Spot asked intently.

"I don't know," Race shrugged. "I guess I didn't want you to know that I screwed up," he admitted.

"Race, we'se a pair, you know what that means?" Spot questioned. "It means we'se a team. And we stick together no matter what. How am I supposed to stick by you if I don't know what's going on in your life? I can't be there for you if you ain't telling me what's going on. You understand that?"

Race didn't respond, instead getting up to fix his coffee.

Spot set the kitten down on the floor and walked up behind Race, gripping him on the shoulder. "You know I wouldn't be mad at you if you just told me the truth from the beginning," he said.

"So, you is mad with me," Race clarified.

"I'se disappointed, that's for sure," Spot said. "But mad? Okay, maybe a little mad. But I ain't done with you, if that's what you'se thinking."

"What am I going to do, Spot?" Race asked. "He ain't gonna leave me alone, especially after last night."

Spot thought about that for a moment. "Well, we'se just gonna have to make him not want to bother you no more."

"And how do we plan to do that?" Race questioned.

"I've got one or two things in mind," Spot said, a smirk spreading across his face. "We'se gonna give him hell, though, that's for sure." He looked up at Race, hand still on his shoulder. "Hey, you'se alright?" he asked. "I didn't ask you last night. You seemed a bit shaken up."

"Yeah, I'se fine," Race muttered, though he didn't sound convincing.

"What did I say about being truthful," Spot argued. "He didn't try nothing, did he?"

Race didn't answer, quietly pouring his coffee into his mug.

Spot scowled. "Or maybe I'll just kill him," he seethed.

"You can't fight every person you disagree with," Race pointed out.

"I don't see why not," Spot argued. "And this is more than a disagreement. If anyone lays a hand on any of my boys they ain't walking away with it."

"You don't always have to be some kind of hero," Race muttered.

"I will if it's you that's in trouble," Spot said. "Any day."

Race smiled softly at that. "What are you going to do?" he asked.

Spot grinned. "Like I said, gonna give him hell."

* * *

"No, no, no!" Davey snapped, walking away from Spot and heading into the office.

"Come on, Davey, it's just one night," Spot argued, following after him.

"I am not letting you sabotage my eatery," Davey exclaimed, dropping some freshly printed menus down on the desk,

"It ain't your eatery I'se sabotaging, it's a guest who's gonna be having dinner here," Spot explained, trying his best to be patient.

"And that guest will go and tell everyone what a horrible place our shop is to eat, no way," Davey said, putting his foot down.

"Look, it's either we give this guy a reason to leave Race alone, or I bust his brains in, which would you rather me do?" Spot asked.

"Prison orange isn't your color," Davey mused.

"No, it ain't, so this is the best option we'se got. Come on, Davey, just one night. You can handle one bad Yelp review, can't you?" Spot asked.

Davey thought about it. "Why can't you sabotage him at some other restaurant?" he asked.

"Because no other restaurant has all my boys who can gang up on him," Spot pointed out. "Or a manager who can back me up on this."

Davey was silent for a moment. "Are you sure this would work?" he asked. "I mean, if this guy's been pining after Race for over a year, what makes you think one crappy date's gonna get him to run for the hills?"

Spot smirked. "He ain't had to deal with me before, that's what."

Davey sighed. "There better be no fires, and no one better get hurt, alright? And I want the other guests that night to be treated like royalty, do you hear me?"

Spot nodded. "Yeah, yeah, I hear ya," he said.

"Alright," Davey said. "Now what did you have in mind?"

* * *

"It was nice of you to answer my calls," Josiah said, sitting across the table from Race on a Friday night. "Though I don't know why you suggested coming here. After all, you work here. You'd think you'd want to go somewhere else for a change, wouldn't you?"

Race shrugged. "I like the food here," he explained. "And I'se usually in the coffee shop so I never get to enjoy the eatery."

Josiah nodded. "Makes sense," he said. "So, does this mean you'll consider my offer?"

"Maybe," Race lied. "I still gotta think about it some more."

"Take your time," Josiah said. "There's no rush. Though, I'd like to know before too much longer, that way I can get everything prepared. Those two guys you live with now seem like pretty poor people to be spending your time with. You're better off living with someone more . . . refined."

Race clenched his hands together under the table. "Yeah, sure," he said, gritting his teeth.

"Now, where is our waiter, it's been ages," Josiah complained. When a server walked by, he flagged him down, snapping to get the server's attention.

"Can we get some waters, please?" Josiah asked impatiently.

"Water," Blink wrote down. "Do you want that hot or iced?"

Josiah looked at him quizzically. "Uh, iced," he said.

"And I think we'se ready to order now," Race added, looking over the menu. "I'll have the chicken pesto."

"And I'll have the steak," Josiah said, handing Blink his menu.

"I'se sorry, we'se out of the steaks," Blink apologized, handing him his menu back.

"Then, I'll have the pasta," Josiah said.

"We'se out of that too," Blink stated.

"What are you not out of?" Josiah asked impatiently.

"Chicken pesto," Blink answered with a smile.

Josiah made a face. "I'll take that, but hold the pesto," he told Blink, handing him back the menu.

"And can I get you anything else?" Blink asked, pointedly not looking at Josiah, and only looking at Race.

"That'll be it for me," Race said, handing him his menu as well.

"Just make it snappy," Josiah muttered.

Blink walked off, taking the orders back to the kitchen where Spot waited. "How'd it go?" he asked.  
Blink groaned. "The guy's a total asshole, I can already tell," he complained. "But I made sure the only thing available was the one thing Race said he didn't like, so he's already in a sour mood."

"Good," Spot said. "You'se up, kid."

Mush grabbed his notepad and headed out, making his way to Race and Josiah's table. "What can I getcha?" he asked, all rosy and smiles.

"Uh, someone already came and took our order," Josiah explained.

"Really?" Mush asked. "I don't think that's the case. Let me get your order again, just in case, alright pal?"

"Fine, whatever," Josiah said. "I want the chicken pesto, but hold the pesto."

"I'll have the same," Race said. "But pesto with mine."

"And can I get you guys some water?" Mush asked.

"Yes please," Race answered.

"Hot or iced?" Mush asked.

"Iced," Josiah said, groaning. "Who the hell orders hot water to drink?"

"It's a customary question, I'se required to ask it," Mush explained. "Alright, I'll be right out with those waters."

Mush walked back to the kitchen, putting in the order. A few minutes later, Spot sent out Buttons, notepad in hand.

"Good evening," he greeted Race and Josiah. "What can I getcha?"

"We've already ordered twice," Josiah complained. "You're our third waiter tonight."

"Oh, really?" Buttons asked. "Well, let me take your order so that I can be sure we gotcha."

"Chicken pesto, no pesto," Josiah glared. "And two waters. Iced, not hot."

"I'll have the chicken pesto as well, but with pesto," Race said patiently, trying his best not to laugh.

"I'll get those orders in immediately," Buttons said, writing down the orders and heading to the kitchen.

A few minutes later Blink came out with two waters, setting one with ice next to Race, and one without next to Josiah.

"Enjoy," Blink said, walking away.

"Wait, hold up,' Josiah called after him. "My water is hot!"

"Oh, isn't that what you ordered?" Blink asked innocently.

"Who the hell orders hot water?" Josiah questioned.

"I'll fix that immediately," Blink said, taking the water and going back to the kitchen.

Not long after Mush came out with two waters, an iced for Race and a hot for Josiah.

"This water is hot as well," Josiah complained, holding out the water to Mush.

"You didn't order hot water?" Mush asked, confused.

"No, I didn't!" Josiah snapped.

"Well, I'll just fix that, then," Mush said, taking his water and going back to the kitchen. Immediately after he left, Buttons came out with two waters; an iced for Race and a hot for Josiah.

"I didn't ask for hot water!" Josiah barked, handing Buttons the glass.

"My bad," Buttons said, taking the water and going back to the kitchen. Race was almost in tears, but he tried to hold himself together.

"What's so funny?" Josiah asked, staring at Race.

"Nothing, nothing's funny," Race said quickly, wiping at his eyes.

"Some bad service, they got here," Josiah muttered. "I thought this place was classy. What kind of classy place serves hot water?"

Race shrugged, not daring to open his mouth or else risk laughter coming out.

Back in the kitchen, Spot was watching carefully as Tommy Boy and Finch prepared the food.

"You know to put pesto in both of those, right?" Spot asked.

"Two steps ahead of you," Tommy Boy said. "We'se got other guests to serve, though, so it's gonna be a while."

"Good, make him wait for his disappointing dinner," Spot said. "Hey Davey! How's it going with your other guests?"

"All guests are having a swell night, as always," Davey reported, coming into the kitchen from the back hallway. "Though, I'm afraid if you take things much farther the other guests are going to start to notice and get antsy. Please tell me you didn't talk to Katherine about your final surprise?"

"Final surprise?" Spot asked innocently. "What final surprise?"

"I mean it, Conlon, you better not go through with what I think you're going through with," Davey warned him.

"I'se got no idea what you'se talking about," Spot said, shaking his head. "I ain't even seen Katherine."

"Good," Davey said. "Now get back to work. We got other guests to please."

Back in the courtyard, Josiah was finishing up telling Race a story, which Race had to pretend to laugh at the end. It hadn't occurred to Race before just how boring Josiah was. He may have looked the part of an interesting guy, what with his leather jacket and tight pants, but there was nothing interesting about him as soon as he opened his mouth. All of his stories were just about other classmates he had been rude to, lovers he had mistreated, and the like. This guy was a bully, and he didn't take no for an answer. Race began to wonder if Spot's plan would really work. He hoped so, but he had his doubts. One bad date surely couldn't be enough to send him running. But he had to have faith in Spot's abilities. After all, this was Spot Conlon he was talking about. There wasn't much the guy couldn't do.

Twenty minutes dragged on, and finally the food came out, brought by Blink.

"Two chicken pestos," Blink said, setting down the plates in front of their respective recipients.

"Uh, I asked for no pesto on mine," Josiah said, pointing in distaste at his plate.

"Oh, really?" Blink asked. "I'll get that fixed right away," he said, taking both of the plates and bringing them back to the kitchen.

A few minutes later, Mush came out with the same plates, sitting them down in front of the two men.

"This still has pesto on it," Josiah complained, pushing the plate away from himself.

"Oh, I'll get that fixed right away," Mush said, taking the plates and bringing them back to the kitchen.

Another few minutes passed and Buttons came out with two plates, appropriately fixed for the guests.

"Finally, someone got it right," Josiah said, sticking his fork and knife into the chicken and taking a big bite. "Mmm, very good," he said between bites. "Though a little soggy," he added.

Buttons went back to the kitchen, where Spot still stood. "Did you do it?" he asked.

Buttons nodded. "Right into his food," he said with a hint of glee.

"You sure you didn't spit in Race's right?" Spot asked, just to be sure.

"I'se positive," Buttons answered. "He even said it tasted soggy."

"Damn boy, how much did you spit in it?" Spot asked, unable to contain his laughter.

"I'se got a lot of saliva, okay?" Buttons said, laughing as well.

"What are you talking about?" Davey asked, coming back into the kitchen.

"We spit in his food," Buttons answered, smiling broadly.

"You what?" Davey asked, incredulous.

"It's alright, it ain't any of your esteemed guests," Spot said, waving his hand.

"If anyone finds out about this they could shut us down!" Davey hissed, angry.

"No one's gonna find out," Spot assured him. "And it's too late. You already agreed to this, anyways."

"I didn't agree to that bit!" Davey exclaimed. "This better work, Conlon, or else I'm gonna have your head."

"It will work," Spot said with finality. "It has to."

The rest of their meal went smoothly, both ordering cups of coffee for dessert. It was the final piece in Spot's puzzle for the night. Davey was away in the office where he couldn't see, and Katherine had already agreed to going through with it. When it was time to bring out their coffees, Katherine came out with two cups of piping hot lattes, the first she set down for Race carefully on the table, the second she walked over to set down for Josiah, but 'accidentally' tripped, spilling hot coffee all over him.

Josiah screamed, jumping out of his seat and as far away from Katherine as he could. He looked down at himself, coffee staining his perfectly white shirt and seeping through to burn his skin.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" he shouted at Katherine, glaring at her in disbelief.

"Oh, I am so sorry," Katherine said in mock apology. "We'll get you cleaned up right away. Romeo!" Get a cold towel immediately!"

"On it!" Romeo called, rushing to the kitchen and coming back a moment later with a cold towel that he pressed up against Josiah's chest.

"How's this?" Romeo asked, dabbing at the coffee stains on his shirt with a smile and a wink.

"Get off of me!" Josiah shouted, shoving him away. "Anthony, don't just sit there. Do something!"

Race was doing his best not to laugh. "What do you want me to do?" he asked, confused.

"Get your manager, or something!" Josiah snapped. "We've been treated terribly all evening and I won't stand for this!"

"What seems to be the problem?" Spot asked, coming out to the courtyard. The other guests had started to stare, and Spot knew it was time to shut the situation down. Time for the final act.

"You," Josiah seethed. "I thought you said he wasn't working tonight," he added, looking at Race.

"Well, guess I am," Spot said, crossing his arms. "You gotta problem or what?"

"Yeah, I've got a few problems," Josiah snapped. "Starting with your wait staff here."

"My wait staff did exactly as I told them to," Spot said simply.

Josiah glared. "I want to see the manager, now," he growled.

"I'm a manager," Katherine said. "And I approved this evening."

"Excuse me?" Josiah asked.

"You see, we here at Jacobi's, we'se a family," Spot explained. "And when one of us is down in the dumps we look after them. So, when I heard about the trouble you was giving our boy Race here, I couldn't stand by and do nothing. Now, this was one night of hell for ya. If you want, I can make it hell for ya every night unless you leave my boy alone. How does that sound?"

Josiah was livid. "Anthony, did you know about this?" he asked lowly.

Race shrugged. "I have no idea what they'se talking about," he lied, smiling to himself.

Josiah glared. He looked back down at Spot. "You want hell, I can give you hell, alright."

"Try me," Spot challenged. "Just you try me."

Josiah didn't wait another moment. He reared his hand back and squarely punched Spot in the face, causing him to stumble back slightly.

"And that's what we were waiting for," Katherine said. "I'm calling the cops."

"And I'll tell them about the horrible treatment you gave me tonight," Josiah threatened.

"I'm gonna wager they won't care," Romeo said. "After all, you'se the first one to strike."

"Anthony, are you seriously gonna let them treat me like this?" Josiah asked, stunned.

Race shrugged his shoulders. "I'se staying out of it. You shouldn't have hit first."

Spot straightened up. "Now get out, before we make you."

"Are you threatening me?" Josiah asked, getting in his face.

"He's not, but I am," Davey said, coming out to the courtyard. "I saw the whole thing and I called the police. They'll be on their way any minute now."

"If I were you I'd get out of here," Spot warned him. "Or else."

Josiah didn't say anything; he just continued to glare at Spot.

"What's it gonna be?" Spot asked, smiling proudly.

"This isn't over," Josiah threatened, his voice low.

"Alright, well whenever you want to throw down just let me know. I'se got about a dozen people behind me who would love to rip you a new one," Spot said, smirking.

Josiah stood there a moment longer, looking back at Race. He huffed, squaring his shoulders, and for a second Race thought that he was going to strike Spot once again. But he didn't. Instead, he turned and walked away, not even looking back for a moment.

When the police arrived Davey dealt with them, explaining how Josiah had hit Spot and even including his stalkerish behavior from days before. There were plenty of eye witnesses from that night, and the police were satisfied after a few statements from Race and the rest of the wait staff, as well as a few guests.

"Well, that was fun," Spot said as he and Race drove home together that night.

"You really think that all of this worked?" Race asked.

"Sure," Spot said. "And if it didn't we'll do it all over again."

"Hey, thanks Spot," Race said. "For everything."

Spot just shrugged. "You'd do the same for me, wouldn't you?"

Race laughed. "Yeah, but I don't know if I'd take a hit for you."

"I'se hurt," Spot said with mock offense.

They arrived home and got out of their car, heading up the stairs to their apartment. When they got inside they saw the apartment was empty, save for the kitten, who bounded up to greet them.

"Guess Jack isn't back yet," Spot noted.

"Guess not," Race agreed.

He and Spot looked at each other for a moment, eyes locking.

"You wanna-" Race started.

"Shut up, Higgins," Spot said, pulling him in for a kiss. The two of them stayed like that for a moment before stumbling to their bedroom door, closing and locking it behind them.

Yes, all was well, Race decided. All was well, indeed.


	20. Chapter 20

**Merry Christmas, have some sappy goodness!**

"And you're sure they left the door unlocked?" Davey asked, coming up the stairs of Spot and Race's apartment complex.

"I'se sure," Crutchie assured him, reaching the top of the stairs with a huff. When they got to the door, Crutchie tried the knob and found that it was indeed unlocked. Pleased, he walked inside, followed by Davey and Les.

"Whoa, it's a kitty!" Les said excitedly as Mini bounded up to them. He carefully picked her up, holding her out to inspect her.

"What happened to her leg?" Les asked, clearly sounding concerned.

Crutchie shrugged. "We just found her like that," he explained. "She was probably born that way. Or had an accident when she was a baby."

"What's her name?" Les asked, petting her head affectionately.

Crutchie beamed. "Mini Crutchie," he said proudly.

"Come on, we only have a short amount of time to get everything together," Davey said, emptying one of the grocery bags he was carrying onto the counter.

"Spot said the three of them should be back around ten-thirty," Crutchie informed them. "That should give you enough time to cook, right?"

"We'll see," Davey said, going through the groceries and getting together the food items. "You two start decorating while I cook."

"I can't believe it's Jack's birthday and he didn't tell us," Les said, grabbing a packet of streamers and tearing it open.

"He conveniently forgets to mention it every year," Davey explained. "Luckily, me and Spot remembered it from last year."

"Why doesn't Jack like to mention his birthday?" Crutchie asked.

Davey shrugged. "Beats me," he said. "He just always acts like it isn't a big deal. Last year was the first year we were able to get it out of him, and that's only because Katherine was able to look it up."

"What did you do for him last year?" Crutchie asked.

"Not much cause we found out last minute," Davey admitted. "Some of us just got together and went to see a movie. It was a good time, but nothing too special."

"Not like this year," Crutchie said, smiling.

"Help me hang these streamers," Les said, holding out the pack to Crutchie. The two of them got to work decorating the apartment, hanging streamers and balloons everywhere they could. Soon the apartment was filled with the delicious smells of Davey's cooking, and Crutchie's mouth began to water. They had decided on making brunch, per Race's request. According to him it was the gayest of meal times, which seemed to be fitting for all of them (save for Les, who was only there as a last-minute request of Davey's parents, who were going to be away most of the day).

It wasn't long before the place was finished being decorated, and Davey was demanding help in the kitchen. Les and Crutchie did what they could to be helpful, grabbing things for Davey and watching food on the stove to make sure it didn't burn. Before long the food was ready and placed around the table, ready to be eaten.

"Where's Jack and the others?" Les asked, bouncing from foot to foot.

"Race just texted me, they'se pulling up now," Crutchie said, looking at his phone.

"Alright everyone, you know what to do," Davey said, turning off the lights and hiding behind the kitchen counter. Crutchie and Les followed suit, both making their way to different hiding spots, Crutchie behind the door and Les behind the couch. A few moments passed and the door started to unlock. When the door opened, Jack was the first to enter. They all waited a few moments for him to get inside before everyone jumped out from behind their hiding spots, all cheering "Happy birthday!"

Jack jumped back in surprise, staring at the others in shock. He looked back at Spot and Race, who were both grinning broadly.

"Who told you it was my birthday?" Jack asked, the shock evident in his voice. He was looking between everyone, head whipping around from person to person.

"We remembered from last year, doofus," Davey told him. "And this year we're gonna celebrate proper."

"Yeah, why didn't you tell us about your birthday coming up?" Crutchie asked, walking up to Jack.

Jack shrugged. "Didn't think it was that important," he admitted.

"Your birthday? Not important?" Crutchie asked. "It's the most important day of the year for you! You'se twenty-one now, and that's like the most special birthday ever!"

Jack scratched the back of his head. "I, uh, haven't really celebrated my birthday in a while," he explained. "Wasn't that big of a deal at home."

Crutchie frowned, but didn't say anything. The mood of the room seemed to shift to something more somber, as no one knew how to respond to that.

"Hey Jack," Les spoke up, still smiling. "Why don't you live at home anymore, anyways?"

Jack didn't answer, and Davey reached over to nudge Les disapprovingly.

"Forget about that, didn't you guys make food?" Spot asked impatiently. "Let's eat!"

"Right, it's all prepared," Davey said, indicating towards the table.

Everyone took their seats, Crutchie being sure to snag a seat by Jack. Food was passed and drinks were poured, all getting their fill and contentment.

"Where's the alcohol?" Jack asked. "I'm twenty-one now, so I can technically drink the stuff."

"Just because you're of age doesn't mean everyone else is," Davey reminded him. "That being Crutchie, Les, and Race."

"Oh, come on, Race drinks all the time," Jack complained.

"You what?" Davey asked, looking pointedly at Race.

Race kicked Jack under the table. "Shut up," he hissed.

"Just be glad Katherine isn't here to hear that," Davey told them. "And if it matters so much to you, Spot and I can take you out for drinks later."

Jack smiled in contentment, leaning back in his seat.

"No fair, I wanna go," Crutchie whined.

"We'll take you when you'se older, kid," Spot said, patting Crutchie's head.

Crutchie pouted. "But that's another three years," he complained.

"You'se ain't even nineteen yet?" Spot asked, surprised.

". . . No . . ." Crutchie admitted sheepishly.

"Damn, Jack, what are you doing dating a kid?" Spot asked, incredulous.

"He ain't a kid, he's of age," Jack argued.

"Yeah, I'se an adult," Crutchie said proudly.

"You'se still a fetus to me," Spot said.

"And how old are you, then?" Crutchie asked.

"Twenty-three," Spot answered.

"And how old is Race?" Crutchie asked, surprised.

"Just turned twenty a couple months ago," Race beamed.

"You and Race have a bigger age gap than we do," Jack argued.

"Yeah, but at least Race ain't a teenager," Spot pointed out.

"And how old were the two of you when you got together?" Davey asked, his tone disapproving.

"Eighteen," Race answered.

"Twenty-one," Spot answered.

"See! You two was the same age difference," Jack argued.

"Oh, come on, we'se just giving you a hard time," Spot complained.

"It's my birthday, be nice to me," Jack stated, pouting. "Now, where are my presents?"

"What presents?" Davey asked. "This brunch is your present."

Jack frowned. "Seriously?" he asked.

"Oh, don't get your panties in a twist, we gotcha presents," Race said, getting up. "It ain't much, but it's something."

He walked over to the couch and picked up a few wrapped gifts from behind it, walking back to Jack and plopping them in his lap. Jack smiled, immediately ripping into the first wrapped gift and pulling out a shiny black sketchbook.

"You'se always running through those faster than you can keep up with, so Spot and I figured it was time you got a new one," Race said.

"Thanks, it's great," Jack said sincerely, looking through book and feeling the pages. He was glad to note that they were nice and thick.

"Open your next one," Davey said. "It's from Les and I."

Jack picked up the next present and pulled apart the wrapping, opening up to a large book.

"It's a book on Georgia O'Keeffe," Davey explained. "I knew how much you liked her work and figured you might want a whole book of her art."

Jack flipped through the pages excitedly. "Davey, Les, I love it," he said, smiling broadly. "Thanks."

"Open mine, open mine!" Crutchie said excitedly, nearly bouncing in his seat.

"Okay, okay, gimme a minute," Jack said, laughing. The last present was in a bag, and Jack pulled out the tissue paper, looking inside. He stared for a moment before pulling out a thin glass case with three red tipped yellow roses inside, pressed and preserved within.

"Are these-?" Jack started to ask.

"The flowers you gave me at my show," Crutchie finished for him.

"You kept them?" Jack asked.

"Of course, I kept them," Crutchie answered, matter of fact. "They'se special. And I figured you probably needed something nice to liven up the place around here, cause God knows Spot and Race don't know how to decorate."

"Hey!" Race snapped.

"No, he's right," Spot agreed. "We can't decorate for shit."

"Crutchie, I love it," Jack said, setting down the glass case and wrapping an arm around him. "But it's sappy as hell, just like you."

Crutchie smiled. "You know it."

"Ew," Les said, pretending to gag.

"Oh, we can be grosser if you like," Jack said, leaning over and giving Crutchie a kiss.

"Ew! Gross, stop!" Les complained, covering his eyes.

"Oh please, like you haven't kissed your girl, Sally," Davey said.

"That's different, I don't have to watch it then," Les pointed out, as if that made all the sense in the world.

"So, Jack, what's your plans for the day?" Race asked, leaning forward.

Jack shrugged. "I gotta go into work later," he said. "But I'se only working for a few hours today, Katherine's treat."

"We could watch a movie later tonight?" Crutchie suggested.

"I gotta work tonight," Davey explained. "Hell, I should be there now, but I got Henry to cover for me for a few hours."

"We gotta go into work too," Spot said, indicating to himself and Race. "We won't be back until after closing."

"So, I guess it'll just be you and me, kid," Jack said to Crutchie.

"Fine by me," Crutchie said, smiling.

Everyone finished their brunch and Jack and Spot and Race all got ready for work. Davey went ahead and headed out with Les to the shop, shortly followed by the others. Crutchie spent some time working on homework at the shop while Jack worked, getting his fill of coffee while he was at it. The few hours went by slowly, but eventually they passed and Jack and Crutchie were taking the first bus back to Spot and Race's place.

When they got back to the apartment, Crutchie let Jack pick out a movie. It was some western film that Crutchie hadn't heard of, and quite frankly wasn't interested in, but Jack insisted on watching it and Crutchie wasn't going to refuse him on his birthday.

Halfway through the movie, Crutchie found himself leaning on Jack's shoulder, Jack's arm wrapped around him. It was in the middle of a fight scene, and Crutchie was finding it hard to pay attention. Instead, thoughts of what Jack had said earlier were flooding his mind. Not wanting to disturb him, but curiosity beating out, Crutchie looked up at Jack.

"Hey, Jack," Crutchie said.

"Yeah?" Jack asked, looking down at him.

"What did you mean by birthdays weren't a big deal at home?" Crutchie asked.

Jack didn't immediately answer. "I don't know," he said. "Snyder wasn't big on celebrating nothing."

"Did your mom celebrate with you?" Crutchie asked.

"Oh yeah, all the time," Jack said. "She went all out and would make cake and everything."

"She sounds like she was pretty nice," Crutchie mused.

Jack nodded. "She was," he agreed.

"Do you miss her?" Crutchie asked quietly.

Jack didn't immediately answer, just staring at the TV as the movie played. "Yeah," he eventually said. "All the time."

"I miss my parents too," Crutchie said, more to himself than to Jack.

"Do you remember them much?" Jack asked.

Crutchie shrugged. "Bits and pieces," he explained. "I was pretty young when the accident happened, so I don't remember them all too well. I remember they was nice, though. Real nice people."

Jack nodded. "They'd have to be to have a kid like you," he said.

Crutchie smiled. "Aw, shucks."

"I mean it," Jack said. "You'se probably the nicest person I'se ever met."

Crutchie blushed. "You'se just saying that to get a reaction out of me."

"Maybe I am," Jack said, and then a mischievous smile came across his face. "Kinda like this." And with that he began to tickle Crutchie mercilessly, causing Crutchie to cry out and immediately start kicking his feet.

"No, stop!" Crutchie cried, laughing. "It tickles!"

"Yeah, that's kinda the point," Jack said, laughing as well.

Crutchie leaned away from him, trying to get as far away from Jack as he could. Jack followed, until Crutchie was lying down on the couch and Jack was on top of him.

"You'se mine now," Jack said, continuing to tickle him.

Crutchie had tears coming out of his eyes from laughing so hard. "Not if I stop you!" he said, leaning up and planting a kiss on Jack's lips.

Jack immediately stopped, surprised by the sudden action. "Hah," Crutchie said, pulling away. "I know how to get a reaction out of you too."

Jack smiled, leaning down until their faces were barely an inch apart. "May I?" he asked. When Crutchie nodded, Jack leaned in for another kiss, allowing himself to linger this time. After a few moments, Crutchie pulled away for air, smiling up at Jack.

"Is this okay?" Jack asked, unsure. "I mean, I don't know what you'se comfortable with."

"Just keep ya pants on and I'se good," Crutchie said, laughing.

"So, this is okay?" Jack asked, leaning back down for another kiss, parting his lips and biting down on Crutchie's bottom lip.

Crutchie sighed. "That's more than okay," he mumbled, reaching up his hands to tangle in Jack's hair.

Jack smiled. "Good to know" he said, and continued his actions, trailing down to Crutchie's jawline. Crutchie leaned his head up, giving Jack a good reach of his neck. Jack continued down to Crutchie's neck, kissing and occasionally biting. His hands wandered to Crutchie's sides, holding him tightly. Just when Crutchie didn't think he could take any more of the attention, Jack playfully blew hard against his neck, tickling him.

"Ah! What was that for?" Crutchie asked, laughing.

"You seemed to be enjoying yourself too much and I wanted to make sure it was still you," Jack explained, laughing.

"Oh, shut up," Crutchie said, grabbing his face and pulling him back in for a kiss. It was fervent, needy, and Crutchie thought he couldn't get close enough to Jack. He needed to be closer, oh so closer.

Before Jack knew it, Crutchie had maneuvered so that he was now on top, kissing him hard. Jack hadn't expected that, and was undeniably pleased by Crutchie's action. His hands still gripped his sides, while Crutchie's tangled in Jack's hair.

Jack pulled away. "Are you sure this is okay?" he asked, still uncertain. He wanted to be completely sure Crutchie was comfortable with whatever they did. The last thing he wanted was to make him uncomfortable or feel unsafe.

Crutchie nodded. "It's more than okay," he said, laughing a little. He reached back down and kissed him, placing his hands on the side of Jack's face. The kiss lingered for a long time, their mouths opening and closing rhythmically. Jack delicately trailed his tongue along Crutchie's bottom lip, and when he wasn't met with protests, he continued further, allowing hiss tongue to slip inside of Crutchie's mouth. Crutchie made a sound of contentment, pressing his own tongue against Jack's, and tracing his teeth over it. Jack sighed, wrapping his arms around Crutchie, running his fingers through his hair.

Crutchie pulled away after a few moments, staring down at Jack, smiling.

"What?" Jack asked, unable to contain a small laugh that escaped him.

"I love you," Crutchie said softly, sincerely. "So much."

Jack froze, for a moment forgetting how to breath. "I love you too, Crutchie," he responded quietly. "More than anything."

"Oh yeah?" Crutchie asked. "Well, I love you more than coffee."

"Oh really?" Jack asked. "Well, I love you more than painting."

Crutchie gasped. "Well, I love you more than puppies! How about that?"

Jack made a face of surprise. "You can't mean that?" he said in mock shock.

"But I do," Crutchie said. "I love you more than a lot of things. Most things, actually. Maybe even everything."

Jack smiled. "You big sap," he joked.

"Shut up, you are too," Crutchie said, laughing.

"Oh, come here," Jack said, pulling Crutchie back down into another kiss. They remained like that for several moments, both eagerly holding onto the other, until a small black kitten jumped onto the couch, pawing at their arms.

"Aw, Mini," Crutchie said, picking her up and holding her, rolling over so that his side was on top of Jack.

"Interrupting our moment," Jack grumbled, unable to not smile at the small kitten. "I swear, interrupting intimate moments is her favorite thing. So many times at night I hear Spot or Race go 'dammit Mini!' in the middle of what I can only assume to be a heated session."

Crutchie laughed. "She wants attention too," he reasoned, sitting up.

"Well, she gets plenty, that's for sure," Jack said, petting her head affectionately and sitting up as well. Mini purred, rubbing her head against his hand.

"So, how would you say your birthday was this year?" Crutchie asked, leaning over to once against rest his head on Jack's shoulder.

Jack sighed. "I'd say it's the best yet," he decided. "Thank you, Crutchie, for everything."

Crutchie smiled, leaning in closer to Jack. The movie was long forgotten, playing in the background as the two of them cuddled on the couch with the kitten. It was a good birthday, indeed, Jack decided.

If only every day could be this happy.


	21. Chapter 21

Race was late. He knew he was late. He knew he should have left twenty minutes ago, but he couldn't bring himself to stop playing with the kitten long enough to properly get ready for work and now he was running late. Katherine was going to have his head, that was for certain. He wasn't usually late like this, at least not quite this late. Sure, he had been late in the past one or two times. Okay, maybe three or four times . . . or at least five times but never late like this. Never almost half an hour late. He was going to have to come up with some excuse like there was an accident on the way or he couldn't find his house key or something. Yes, Katherine was going to kill him. He was a dead man walking all because he was freaking late.

He ran from the bus stop to the shop, hefting his bag over his shoulders and huffing and puffing as he weaved his way through other pedestrians, pushing through as politely as he could, which in his state of being wasn't very polite at all. When he finally got to the shop he burst through the doors, ready to rush to the back and put on his apron and clock in, but when he entered the shop he immediately stopped, taken aback by the scene playing out in front of him.

Spot was arguing with a customer, a tall man in a hat, who's face Race couldn't see. He was standing at the register, trying to talk to Jack, but Jack just stood there, hands over his ears and shouting at the man to get out. He looked to be trembling, and it only took a moment for Race to figure out who the man was.

Spot was in the man's face, threating to call the cops if he didn't leave the shop immediately. Other customers were staring at the scene in shock, all whispering to themselves and gasping at the events playing out before them. A few moments later Katherine and Davey came out the back, joining Spot and threatening for the man to leave before they called the authorities on him. Just when Race thought it couldn't get any worse the man shoved Spot, and that was the end of it. Spot grabbed him by the arm and began 'ushering' the man outside, Race stepping out of the way.

"And don't come back!" Spot shouted, slamming the door shut behind him. He turned back to Davey and Katherine. "Call the cops," he said. "We can charge him for getting violent."

Davey nodded and immediately went to the back. Everyone in the shop was still staring in shock around each other, all whispering and pointing fingers at the stunned barista behind the counter. Katherine made eye contact with Race and frowned, obviously irritated with him but not saying anything just yet. Instead she made her rounds around the shop, talking with each customer and assuring them everything was alright, offering to give them half priced drinks as compensation for having to endure that altercation.

Spot looked over at Race, a sour look still on his face. "Where the hell have you been?" he whispered.

"I got caught up in traffic," Race lied quietly. "What the hell happened here?"

"All hell broke loose that's what," Spot answered, turning his attention towards Jack, who was still standing stock still behind the register, hands still covering his ears and face turned towards the ground. He looked white as a sheet. Katherine had gone over and was quietly trying to talk to him, but he wasn't responding, as if he couldn't even hear her.

Race stepped up to the counter, and Katherine turned on him. "You're late," she hissed, glaring up at him.

"Got caught in traffic," Race explained quickly. "It won't happen again."

"Swell day for you to be late," Katherine said sarcastically. She turned back to Jack. "Jack, I need you to look at me, alright?"

Jack didn't respond, his eyes tightly shut. He still seemed to be trembling slightly, and his hands gripped over his hears tightly.

"I don't know what's wrong," Katherine whispered, looking up at Race as if he had some explanation.

"I do," Race said knowingly. He walked over behind the counter and came around to Jack's side, gently putting a hand on his shoulder. Jack flinched and Race immediately pulled his hand away. "Hey Jack," Race said softly. "Let's get out of this room, alright? Let's go talk."

Jack made no move, and Race carefully again put a hand on his shoulder. Jack flinched once more, but this time Race didn't remove his hand, instead gently nudging him to the side. Slowly, Jack started to move, taking a few steps in the direction Race guided him in, Race a couple of steps ahead. Together, they made their way out of the room and walked to the back hallway, stepping into the storage room and Race closing the door behind them.

"Let's sit down, okay?" Race said, helping Jack sit on the floor, Race taking a seat beside him. They both sat in silence for a moment, Jack still holding his hands to the side of his face and looking down at his feet.

"You, uh, wanna talk about it?" Race asked, patting Jack's shoulder reassuringly.

"I don't know what's going on," Jack whispered, his voice trembling slightly.

"Looks to me like you'se having an anxiety attack or panic attack or whatever the right name for them is," Race said. "I get them sometimes. It'll pass."

"When?" Jack asked, still not looking up at him.

"Give it a few minutes," Race said. "How's your breathing?"

"Hard," Jack answered, and Race just noticed that he seemed to be breathing too quickly.

"Alright, first thing's first, let's slow down your breathing," Race said. "Breathe in and count to seven, then breathe out and count to nine. Try it with me, okay?"

Jack nodded, doing as he was told and breathing with Race, counting to seven on the inhale and counting to nine on the exhale.

"Good," Race said. "This'll help you start to calm down."

Jack nodded, and they both just continued breathing for a few minutes, Jack's heart rate finally beginning to slow.

"Alright, can you look up at me now?" Race asked, hand still on Jack's shoulder.

Jack shook his head, still looking down at his feet.

"That's okay, you don't have to," Race said. "Let's just sit here quiet for a minute, alright, or do you wanna talk?"

Jack was silent for a minute. "Quiet sounds good," he said.

Race nodded in understanding. He didn't speak, allowing the silence to take over. Jack had finally stopped trembling, but he still didn't look up, slowly massaging the sides of his head with his hands.

They sat in silence for several minutes, Race never removing his hand from Jack's shoulder. He wanted him to know he was still there, to help ground him. After what felt like several minutes, Jack finally looked back up, meeting Race's eyes for the first time that day.

"How ya doing, buddy?" Race asked kindly, rubbing Jack's shoulder.

Jack rubbed his hands over his face, sighing deeply. "Fine," he breathed.

"Good," Race said. "Jack, what happened out there?"

Jack shrugged. "He just showed up out of nowhere," he explained. "I was making a drink and the next thing I know he was standing there and I . . . I panicked."

"What was he even doing here?" Race asked, confused.

"He said he wanted to talk," Jack said. "I know it's about the money left from mom. It was going to him cause I was technically a dependent but now that I'se not it's supposed to go to me, especially since I turned twenty-one. I don't know, he probably wants me to come back to living with him or something so he can still get the checks."

"You wouldn't, would you?" Race asked.

Jack shook his head. "Course not," he answered. "But, honestly? If I had let him ask me, I don't know how easily I could have said no."

"Why do you think that is?" Race asked, curious.

Jack shrugged. "Not that good at saying no to him," he admitted.

"Because you feel like you don't have that option," Race guessed. "Because you'se not allowed to say no?"

Jack looked at him. "Yeah, how did you-?"

"I know the feeling," Race explained. "I'se been there before."

"With that guy, Josiah?" Jack asked, his voice growing quieter.

Race nodded. "Yeah," he answered. "He'd have me do things I didn't want to do, and convince me that I did. I didn't know I could say no, cause we was a thing and you'se supposed to make your partner happy and all that. I thought I was making myself happy too when in fact I was making myself miserable, until one day I finally ran. And I'se guessing it's the same way with you and Snyder. You feel like you can't say no to him cause he was the closest thing you got to a dad, and he probably convinced you along the way that you didn't have the right to tell him no, am I right?"

Jack nodded slowly. "Yeah," he agreed. "Something like that."

They were both quiet a minute before Jack looked back at Race. "Did he . . . did he ever hurt you too?" he asked.

Race shrugged. "Not in the same way Snyder did ya, but yeah, I guess you could say he did."

"I'se sorry," Jack said sincerely. "I didn't know."

"Hell, I didn't know until after the fact," Race said. "I had no idea what was happening was wrong. Had no way of knowing. It's not like they taught us this stuff in high school."

Jack nodded. "I'se glad you got out," he said.

"I'se glad you got out too," Race agreed. "Now, I gotta ask. This whole episode, has anything like this happened before? Where it felt like you couldn't breathe or move?"

Jack nodded. "It's happened a couple of times," he admitted. "Usually in the aftermath of something."

"Maybe it wouldn't hurt to talk to someone about this," Race suggested. "You know, someone who's not me or Katherine or one of the guys."

Jack gave him a quizzical look. "Talk to someone?" he asked.

"Yeah, you know, a professional," Race said. "Someone who can help you figure out how to cope with everything that's happened."

Jack leaned back. "I don't know," he said, scratching his head. "Doesn't sound very ideal to me."

"You know, I see someone, right?" Race asked. "Every week, I go and talk to someone about my anxiety. And hey, guess what? It helps. Now, don't go around telling people that, I'se only ever told you and Spot."

Jack looked at him, a little surprised. "You do?" he asked.

"Sure, been going for about a year now," Race said. "Even found a place that I can afford. If you like, I can give you their contact info?"

Jack thought about it for a moment. "Maybe," he said. "Just, if I do, don't tell anyone, especially Crutchie."

Race mimed zipping his lips shut. "That's for you to tell, not me."

Jack smiled. "Thanks, Race."

"No problem," Race said. "Now, if you'se feeling better, we should probably get out of this closet and go help Katherine out front. I'se already late getting in today."

Jack laughed. "Yeah, we was wondering what happened to ya," he said, getting to his feet.

They walked back out front where Katherine was holding down the fort, rushing back and forth taking drink orders and giving customers back correct change. When she saw Race and Jack approach a smile of relief broke out over her face.

"Race, take the register," she commanded. "Jack, I need your help on drinks."

Jack nodded, grabbing a cup and preparing the next drink order.

The atmosphere was clearly tense; Katherine didn't go back to the office once the rest of the shift, and Jack couldn't help but notice Davey and Spot eyeing him every time one of them stepped into the cafe portion of the shop. He had really made a scene, hadn't he? Maybe Race was right; maybe talking to someone wouldn't be so bad after all. If it meant not having another one of those breakdowns like earlier, or at least helping to prevent them, then it might be worth the trouble.

The rest of the day went by smoothly until closing, every last customer heading out so that the employees could clean up and close the shop. Katherine was taking inventory, while Davey and Spot cleaned tables.

"Don't forget, we got the open mic night tomorrow night, so I want this place looking spiff clean, alright?" Davey said, throwing a rag over his shoulder and moving onto the next table.

"Should I mop up tonight?" Spot asked, finishing up with his own tables.

"Yeah, sounds good," Davey said. "Race, help him out with that."

"Yes, sir," Race said, going to the back to grab a couple of mops and buckets.

"Doing anything this month, Davey?" Jack asked, mostly joking.

"Like I said last month, and the month before that, and the month before that, and every month before that, no," Davey answered.

"You know, you could always join Spot on his famous rants," Jack suggested. "I'se sure you'd do great at it."

"Sorry, but that's my time and ain't no one taking no part in it," Spot argued.

"I still can't believe the people love those," Katherine muttered. "You're literally just standing on stage ranting for five minutes about something completely random and unimportant."

"The people think it's a comedy bit, that's why they enjoy it," Race explained, coming back into the room with the mops and buckets.

"Just try and keep your language clean this time, alright Spot?" Davey said. "You know, occasionally kids like Les come into this place, more often than you think."

"Yeah, yeah," Spot said, waving his hand at him dismissively.

"Alright, I gotta head out. Parents need me to stop by home real quick," Davey said, tossing his rag to Jack. "I'll see you guys bright and early in the morning."

"Have a safe drive home," Katherine called after him. "I'll be heading out too. You boys finish in here, and I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow," Jack said, waving goodbye and Katherine made her way out of the shop.

"Hey, Jack," Spot said once she had left. "You good?"

Jack nodded. "Yeah, I'se good," he answered.

"You had me worried earlier today," Spot told him. "Don't do that to me again, alright?"

Jack nodded. "Whatever you say, Spot."

Spot clapped him on the shoulder, pleased with his answer. "Hey, not tomorrow but the next night how's about you and Davey and I go out for some drinks? On us. Bit of a late birthday gift, what do you say?"

"You both already gave me a birthday gift," Jack pointed out.

"Then consider it just a random act of kindness, I don't know," Spot said. "Do you wanna or not?"

"Sure, that sounds great," Jack said.

"I wanna go," Race complained.

"We'll take you out when you turn twenty-one, how's about it?" Spot said.

"I wanna go now," Race grumbled.

"You can go when you'se old enough," Spot told him. "Right now you'se too young, and we ain't going to jail or nothing."

Race frowned but didn't argue further, instead focusing on his mopping.

"Hey Spot," Jack said, finishing up wiping down the counter. "I just wanna say, thanks for taking care of the situation earlier."

Spot nodded. "Did what needed to be done," he said simply.

"Did ya ever call the cops like you was saying?" Race asked, curious.

"Yeah, we called 'em," Spot said. "But other than taking a few statements and getting them his address there wasn't much we could do. The most that'll probably happen is they'll take a visit by his place, question him about the situation, and maybe giving him a fine, I don't know."

"It ain't too late to bring up the other stuff," Race said.

"No," Jack said. "There's no point in bringing it up now."

"No, Race is right," Spot said. "They guy's violent. He could go away for some years if the cops knew everything he did."

"It ain't worth it," Jack said. "Just drop it."

Spot shrugged. "Whatever you say, Kelly."

When they finished cleaning, the three locked up and headed home, taking the drive in relative silence. Jack could feel something building in his chest again like before. What had Race called it? Anxiety? He tried to ignore it. There was no sense in him having it now. It was over, it was all over. And unless Snyder tried to contact him again he should never have to deal with this anymore.

But if that were the case, why did he still feel this way?


	22. Chapter 22

"Hey, Crutchie!" a voice called from behind him.

Crutchie turned around in his seat, seeing a familiar face approach him. "Hiya, Specs, how ya doing?"

Specs took the seat across from Crutchie, setting his backpack down on the table. "Doing alright, how's about you?" he asked.

"Can't complain," Crutchie said. "Trying to study for a test I got on Monday, but ain't getting very far with that."

"Oh? What test?" Specs asked, curious.

"Acting one," Crutchie answered. "It's on Stanislavski, and I is struggling."

"Hmm, can't help ya there," Specs hummed. He looked around the room, the bottom floor of the campus library buzzing with life, as students sat around and studied, joked, conversed, and the like. Only certain parts of the library required quiet, so it wasn't out of the ordinary to find groups of students bundled together and playing a game or watching something on their computer together. It was a welcoming environment, one that the students were grateful for, especially as finals were approaching.

"So, what do you study, Specs?" Crutchie asked, realizing he had never asked before.

"Math," Specs answered. "At least, that's the plan for now. I'se still a freshman so if I decide to change I'se still got time."

Crutchie shuddered. "I don't understand how you can do that," he said, a look of disbelief on his face.

Specs shrugged. "Same way as I don't understand how you can do all that singing and dancing," he replied. "To each their own, I guess."

Crutchie nodded in agreement. "So, everyone at the shop ready for open mic night tonight?" he asked.

Specs nodded. "I ain't working tonight so I don't know if I'se gonna go or not. Romeo's working, though, and he wants me to be there so I might show up."

"You should," Crutchie said. "I hear Les has a surprise performance tonight that he wants everyone to be there for."

"I shudder to think of what that kid has up his sleeve," Specs mused. "By the way, was you planning on doing something tonight?"

Crutchie nodded excitedly. "I think I finally got up the courage to do something," he admitted.

"You mean you can perform on stage in front of hundreds of people but you'se been too nervous to do a simple open mic night?" Specs asked.

"It's different when putting on a performance," Crutchie explained. "I was acting as a character, not as myself."

"True, but you had a lot more riding on your performance during the show than you do tonight," Specs pointed out. "What are ya doing, anyways?"

Crutchie grinned. "It's a surprise," he said, excited.

"Alright, alright, I see how it is," Specs said. "Let me guess, it's something for Jack, ain't it?"

Crutchie blushed. "How did you know?" he asked.

"Cause I know these things," Specs said. "You'se so deep in love, how could you not do a performance for him? Especially your first one."

"You got me there," Crutchie said, nodding.

"So, when are you heading over?" Specs asked.

Crutchie hummed. "I was gonna finish up studying, head back to my dorm to drop off my books, and then head over to the shop, so maybe in about an hour?"

"Cool, mind if I hang with you until then? We can head over together," Specs suggested.

"Sounds great," Crutchie exclaimed.

The two sat in silence, Crutchie reading over his books and Specs working on some math homework. The silence was comfortable and easy; Crutchie liked being around Specs, he was a very relaxed person, and Crutchie felt at ease around him. He still didn't know Specs too well, only usually seeing him at the shop and occasionally around campus, but those situations usually only allowed him to say a quick hello and goodbye, never enough time to sit down and have a conversation. Crutchie wondered if maybe they would get more opportunities to see each other in the future. He would certainly like that, and wondered if Specs would like that too. Outside of the theatre, he didn't have too many friends on campus, and it would be nice to know another friendly face.

"So, how's Romeo doing?" Crutchie asked after a while, wanting to bring up some casual conversation.

"Oh, he's doing well," Specs said. "Still making decisions on what he's gonna do after high school. I think he hasn't decided on a college just yet, so his future is kind of up in the air right now."

"Do you think he'd want to come here?" Crutchie inquired.

Specs shrugged. "That's what I would hope, but he isn't so sure. I know he wants to go into fashion merchandizing and might want to consider finding a trade school, but there's a chance he'll change his mind and stick to the area."

"Hope he does," Crutchie said. "It would suck to see him leave."

"Yeah, it would," Specs agreed.

They returned to silence, both getting back to their studying. Another half an hour passed and Crutchie began packing up his books, Specs doing the same.

"Mind if I stop by my dorm as well?" Specs asked, getting up from his seat.

"Not at all," Crutchie said, picking up his crutch and situating it under his arm. "Where to first?"

"Whichever dorm is closer," Specs said, hefting his bag over his shoulder and following Crutchie out of the library.

They stopped at Crutchie's dorm first, allowing him to drop off his backpack and pick up another small case, one that looked uncannily like an instrument case.

"What's that?" Specs asked, grinning a little.

Crutchie smiled, embarrassed. "It's my ukulele," he explained. "Need it for tonight."

"So, what, you sing and dance and play instruments?" Specs asked. "Damn, Jack hit the jackpot, didn't he?"

Crutchie blushed. "It ain't that big of a deal," he stammered.

"Boy, I can't wait to see Jack's reaction tonight," Specs said excitedly. "You two are kind of goals, you know that?"

"What about you and Romeo?" Crutchie questioned. "Aren't things good there?"

"Yeah, of course they'se good," Specs said. "But Romeo is still seventeen. It ain't like he can stay over at my dorm or nothing and . . . you know."

Crutchie shrugged. "Me and Jack ain't never done nothing like that neither," Crutchie admitted.

Specs gaped at him. "Never?" he asked, surprised.

Crutchie shook his head. "I mean, we'se spent the night together before, but, you know, nothing happened."

"Why not?" Specs asked, confused.

"Just ain't into that," Crutchie explained.

"Oh, come on, it ain't like Jack's asexual or nothing," Specs joked.

"He's not, but I am," Crutchie said simply.

"Oh, you are?" Specs asked. "Sorry, I didn't realize."

"What you saying sorry for, it ain't a disease?" Crutchie laughed.

"No, but here I was assuming things about your relationship without having all the facts," Specs said. "You know what they say about those who assume, so I'se sorry."

"Don't worry about it, you'se fine," Crutchie said, waving his hand.

They chatted the rest of the way to the shop, coming in laughing and joking with each other about nothing in particular. They were greeted by the familiar voice of Race, welcoming them into the shop.

"How ya doing, boys?" Race asked when they came up to the register.

"Doing swell, Race," Crutchie said. "Can I get my usual, but five sugars today."

"Jack, get me a light roast French-pressed coffee, five sugars," Race called, out, writing the information down on the cup just in case.

"On it," Jack said, grabbing the cup and getting to work on the drink. He gave Crutchie a grin before setting to work, making Crutchie's cheeks feel warm.

"We all ready for the show tonight?" Specs asked, looking around the shop.

"Yeah, sound check's in about an hour, then we'll be all set," Race said, leaning on the counter. "Hey, Les should be around here somewhere, why don't you go check to make sure he ain't gotten himself into any trouble, yeah?"

Specs nodded. "No problem," he said, turning and heading to the eatery to look for Les.

"So, what's that?" Race asked, indicating to Crutchie's case.

Crutchie immediately tried to hide it behind himself. "Nothing," he said quickly.

"Oh, that ain't nothing," Race said. "You'se playing tonight?"

Crutchie shook his head. "Nope, no idea what you'se talking about," he said.

"What's this about you playing tonight?" Jack asked, walking up to the counter.

"I ain't playing tonight," Crutchie quickly answered.

"Then what's that behind your back?" Jack asked, pointing.

Crutchie groaned. "It was supposed to be a surprise," he admitted.

"Oh, was it?" Jack asked. "Alright, then I didn't see nothing," he said, raising his hands in surrender and walking away.

Crutchie smiled. "Thank you," he said.

An hour passed quickly, Crutchie sitting at the counter and talking with Jack and Race while they weren't working. Davey and Katherine started to run the sound check, making sure all mics were set up properly and the sound came out pleasantly and accurately. The coffee shop started to fill up, and guests began writing down their names on the roster set out to schedule the night. When seven o'clock came around, Katherine got up on stage and welcomed everyone to the fourth open mic night of the year. Guests applauded and cheered, and the show began.

The first few acts were pleasant; people playing their guitars and singing original songs, a couple of guests coming up and presenting their spoken word poetry, even one guy coming up and doing a comedy bit with his puppets. It was a happy atmosphere, and the audience was pleased. Coffee was in high demand, and dinner was booming on the other side of the shop in the eatery. All in all, it was a good night for Jacobi's.

After about the sixth act, Spot made his way to the stage, taking the mic in his hand and staring into the audience with a tired expression. The audience already applauded him, knowing what was coming and waiting with excitement for whatever he had to deliver this month.

"I don't know why you'se all applauding, I ain't said nothing yet," Spot said, clearly confused and earning a laugh from the audience. "I don't want to take up your time or nothing so I'll make this quick. You know what I don't understand? Avocados."

Several people laughed, Davey and Katherine in the back both rolling their eyes. This was going to be an interesting night.

"Now hear me out," Spot said. "You got lots of fruit in the world. Strawberries, apples, mangos, plenty of delicious shit you can eat, and yet somehow all everyone wants to put on their toast is freaking avocados. I get it, it's trendy, it's cool or whatever, but why the hell, though? Not only is they overpriced, but they ain't even that good. They taste like baby food or some shit. That's basically what it is, at least it's got the consistency of it. Now, I'se tasted a lot of weird food in my day; working in a kitchen, it's part of the territory, but ain't nothing compares to the disgustingness of an avocado. What the hell they even doing, anyways? They'se good for what? One day? And then they turn to brown shit. I mean, you'se literally eating premature shit. That's disgusting."

The audience laughed, a few people applauding. Davey leaned over to Katherine. "I told him to stop swearing so much during these," he whispered to her.

"Oh, he's fine," Katherine assured him. "He's being pretty light tonight, anyways."

"And don't get me started on guacamole," Spot added. "You got the mushiest freaking fruit on the planet, and you think 'oh, let's make it mushier and use it as a dip', like that's some brilliant idea. And you put in your tomatoes and your onions and cilantro and whatnot to try and mask the fact that you'se literally eating mushed up baby food, but no. You can't fool me with that shit. It's still disgusting as hell and mushier than a fresh dog turd. If you want something to dip your chips in just eat freaking salsa like every other regular joe out there. Why you gotta try and be sophisticated with your avocados, charging extra for these stupid fruits that don't even last the test of time? I swear, I go into any café around here and they tryna sell me avocado toast for what? Five bucks? Ain't no way I'se paying for that shit, no, give me a good old peanut butter and jelly before you give me that."

The audience was near to tears at this point. Behind the counter, Jack and Race were holding their sides with laughter, trying their best to keep it together but failing. Crutchie was about ready to fall out of his seat, only barely holding himself in place.

"I don't know why you'se all laughing," Spot said seriously. "This ain't a freaking joke. This is real. Avocados is a freaking conspiracy. They make you think you like it by shoving it down your throat when in actuality you hate the stuff and just want freedom from it all. Here's my last thought for the night. Stop eating avocados and eat something wholesome, like a banana or some shit. Spare yourself a life of pain, alright? You'se better off without the green mush, anyways." And with that, Spot put the mic back on the stand and headed off stage to go back to the eatery, followed by roaring applause.

Next to jump up on stage was Les, holding in his hand a single kazoo. He grabbed the microphone off the stand, holding it right up to his face. "This song goes out to my brother, Davey, for being the biggest all-star there ever was."

Mic pressed back into the stand, Les began to play his kazoo, horrifically loudly and very poorly, to the tune of a frighteningly familiar song.

"Oh, god," Race breathed, putting his head in his hands and trying not to laugh. Next to him, Jack was cheering Les on, whooping and hollering encouragements. Race looked to his left to see Katherine and Davey doing the same, both almost jumping up and down in excitement for Les. Crutchie was once again laughing till his sides were sore, trying to applaud but finding his hands were needed at his sides to try and hold himself together. When Les's act was done, he gave a dramatic bow and jumped off the stage, whooping as he did so. The audience applauded, though none nearly as vigorously as the employees of the shop, particularly Davey.

Up next was Crutchie, who carefully pulled his ukulele out of his case and headed for the stage. He sat down on the stool provided, setting his crutch down next to him and adjusting the mics.

"So, I don't know how I can follow up a couple of acts like that, but I'se gonna try," Crutchie said, feeling butterflies in his stomach. "I ain't much of a writer, but I can do covers pretty decently, so, uh, this song goes out to a very handsome barista. You know who you are."

The audience awwed, and Crutchie began playing his ukulele. Jack didn't immediately recognize the tune, but as soon as Crutchie started singing the words, his hands went up to his mouth in surprise.

 _Live in my house, I'll be your shelter. Just pay me back, with one thousand kisses. Be my lover, and I'll cover you._

Race nudged Jack's side, grinning at him emphatically. Of course, they all knew the song; Rent had been their favorite musical to all watch together. Jack nudged him back, shushing Race. He looked back at Crutchie and their eyes locked, Crutchie unable to contain the smile that spread across his face.

 _I think they meant it, when they said you can't buy love. Now I know you can rent it; a new lease, you are my love. On life, be my life._

Crutchie's singing was just as beautiful as Jack had remembered. He had asked a dozen times for Crutchie to sing for him, but Crutchie would always shrug it off and come up with some excuse not to. Jack attributed it to him probably being shy, which was most likely the case. Yet here he was, on stage, singing directly to him, and Jack almost had to hide his face with embarrassment, he was grinning so much. But Jack kept eye contact with him the whole way through, feeling his cheeks grow warmer with each word sung. Crutchie had the voice of an angel, Jack thought. He could listen to him sing forever.

 _Oh lover, I'll cover you._

The song ended, and the audience applauded and cheered loudly, the employees of the shop all whooping and hollering praises. Crutchie came down from the stage, and Jack met him on the floor, pulling him into a tight hug and causing the audience to all go 'aww'.

Jack leaned in, whispering something in Crutchie's ear. Crutchie blushed and gave him a small nod, going back to his seat to put his ukulele back in the case before following Jack to the back, everyone else distracted by the next act heading up on the stage.

Quietly, they snuck their way to the fridge, carefully closing the door behind them as the darkness enveloped.

"You sure this is okay?" Crutchie whispered, holding onto Jack's hand in the dark.

"Sure, you wouldn't believe how many times someone's been caught in here," Jack assured him, though his words weren't exactly encouraging.

The next thing Crutchie knew he was being pressed up against the wall, Jack grabbing him by the legs and hoisting him up, pinning him between the wall and himself. Crutchie was impressed by Jack's strength to hold him up, but didn't have time to marvel at it before Jack's lips crashed against his own, immediately taking his breath away.

They remained like this for a while, Crutchie tangling his fingers in Jack's hair and tilting up his head to encourage Jack to kiss down his neck. Jack obliged, running his mouth down the length of his neck and occasionally stopping to leave little bites.

"You sure this is okay?" Jack asked, his face travelling back up to Crutchie's.

Crutchie nodded. "Just keep doing what you'se doing," he instructed, wanting more.

Jack gave it to him, parting their lips and gently tracing his tongue over Crutchie's teeth. His hands were still holding him up firmly by the thighs, Crutchie's legs wrapped around Jack's waist. He leaned his head back again, allowing Jack to continue his exploration down to Crutchie's collarbone, kissing him softly there.

This went on for quite some time, Crutchie able to tell that Jack was getting excited, but despite that never once making a move that was outside of Crutchie's comfort zone, which he highly appreciated. Several minutes had probably passed, and things were beginning to wind down when suddenly the door to the fridge opened, allowing light from the kitchen to pour in.

Someone screamed, and it only took a few seconds to realize it was Davey. Jack promptly dropped Crutchie in surprise, Crutchie crashing to the floor in a heap of arms and legs. Jack immediately tried to help him back to his feet, but Crutchie couldn't bring himself to sit up, laughing too hard at the event that had taken place.

"What the hell is going on in here?" Davey demanded, exasperated. "How many times do I have to tell you, no making out in the shop fridge!"

Jack was laughing, trying and failing to help Crutchie to his feet. "What's the matter, you upset cause we didn't ask you to join?" he asked, grinning devilishly at Davey.

Davey frowned, crossing his arms. "Get out, both of you!" he snapped. "There's a show going on and Race needs helps with drinks."

Once Crutchie managed to get back to his feet, Jack nodded, the two of them making their way back to the coffee shop, a very sour Davey following behind. It wasn't how Crutchie expected the night to go, but he was pleased with it nonetheless.

He decided he would have to sing more songs for Jack like this, but next time maybe not end the night with making out in the fridge, for Davey's sake.

The rest of the night went by without any more incident, Crutchie sitting at the counter enjoying the show, and occasionally making eye contact with Jack and grinning as he worked. After a while, though, a thought came to Crutchie and his smile faltered. He remembered Spec's words from earlier that day, about the two of them and their relationship. Everything apparently looked fine, and it sure felt fine between them, but on Jack's side of things, was he actually fine? Their relationship wasn't like most, because of Crutchie's orientation, and Jack had said again and again he was fine with it. But was he being truthful? Would he really be able to make Jack happy this way?

Crutchie shook his head, trying not to think about it. Everything was fine between them, it wasn't an issue. It would never be an issue, Jack had promised.

Right?


	23. Chapter 23

**Trigger warning for sexual content mentions**

"Never have I ever . . . been to the west coast," Crutchie said, looking down at his full cup of juice in front of him. The cafeteria was bustling with life, students everywhere getting lunch, studying, or playing games with their friends. It was loud and crowded, and Crutchie was already feeling ill that day, and the added stress of being there at this time of day only made him feel worse. But his friends had suggested all hanging out together, and Crutchie didn't want to miss out on what he hoped would be a good time.

"Aw, come on, Crutchie, that's boring," Patrick complained, taking a sip from his cup. "Alright, my turn. Never have I ever . . . given someone a handy in a public bathroom."

Sounds of groans were heard around the table as several people drank from their cups.

"How about this," Ciara said. "Never have I ever . . . screamed during sex."

More groans were heard as everyone drank from their cups, save Crutchie.

"Really, Crutchie, never?" Ciara asked. "You must not be having a good time, then."

Crutchie laughed nervously. "Yeah, guess not," he said, not meeting her eyes.

The game continued on, Crutchie never once taking a sip from his cup, until the game came back around to him.

"Give us something good this time," Michael prompted. "We want to see you drink."

"Alright," Crutchie said, thinking. "Never have I ever . . . been out of New York?"

"That's no fun," Andrew complained. "Don't you have any wild stories of things you've done?"

"Come on, he's still a freshman, cut the kid some slack," Ciara argued. "He needs time to experiment."

"You must have done some experimenting already," Patrick assumed. "I mean, you've been dating that guy since Hunchback; surely you two have stories."

"One time we got caught in the freezer at his work," Crutchie piped up, feeling a little encouraged to have something to report.

"Whose pants were down, yours or his?" Michael asked, leaning forward.

"Uh, neither," Crutchie admitted.

"That doesn't count if you didn't get anywhere," Andrew informed him. "Come on, you've never had your roommate walk in on you? Never fallen over trying to do it standing up? Anything?"

"We'se never done anything before," Crutchie answered, shrugging.

"Never?" Ciara gasped. "You guys have been dating since mid-March, how long are you gonna wait?"

"It's only been a little over a month," Crutchie explained. "How long is we supposed to wait?"

"Third date," Patrick said. "Definitely third date."

"We'se been on a lot more than three dates," Crutchie said quietly.

"You gotta make a move, then, and fast," Andrew encouraged. "Before he gets bored."

"Bored?" Crutchie asked. "He doesn't seem bored with anything to me. We'se even hanging out today."

"And what will you be doing?" Ciara asked, curious.

Crutchie shrugged. "We was gonna watch some movies or something," he said.

"That's a perfect time to make a move," Patrick encouraged. "Good background noise really sets the mood."

"I don't know, I'se not really into that I don't think," Crutchie admitted.

"What do you mean not into that?" Michael questioned. "Everybody's into that."

"Something's gotta be wrong with you if you aren't," Andrew added.

"It just don't seem like a priority," Crutchie said, shrugging again.

"I guarantee you, it's a priority to him, though," Ciara said. "You gotta step up your game if you want to keep him interested."

"I do?" Crutchie asked.

"Of course," Patrick said. "He's gonna get bored with just going out for dinner and holding hands eventually."

Crutchie frowned. "You think so?"

"We know so," Ciara answered. "This is your first relationship, right? Take it from us who have all had a few before. Even if you don't think so, nine times out of ten your partner is going to get bored unless they get some action."

"So, wait, this is your first relationship?" Patrick asked.

Crutchie nodded.

"So, you've never done it before?" he pressed.

Crutchie shook his head. "Never."

"Damn boy, we gotta get you laid," Andrew said.

Crutchie made a face. "I don't know . . ." he started.

"It's not that hard," Ciara said encouragingly. "Trust me, I know it's scary your first time, but it's worth it. You'll feel so much better afterwards, and then all the other times it won't be so scary anymore."

"You are gay, right?" Patrick asked. "Like, this isn't because you secretly like girls or something, is it?"

Crutchie shook his head. "I don't like girls," he confirmed.

"Then it should be a breeze," Patrick said.

"You have kissed him before, haven't you?" Ciara asked.

Crutchie nodded. "Plenty of times," he answered.

"It's not much different from that," Ciara explained. "You just have more parts involved."

Crutchie tried not to shudder. "Right . . ."

"Alright, I've got to head out," Andrew said, getting up. "Come on, Michael, we've got shop hours to complete."

"See you guys around," Michael said. "And Crutchie, you better report back with some action, okay?"

Crutchie nodded, though he didn't make eye contact with him.

"I gotta head out too," Patrick said, putting his books back into his bag. Ciara and Crutchie waved goodbye, now the only too left at the table. Crutchie swirled around his still full cup of juice, staring into it blankly.

"Hey, you alright?" Ciara asked, a hint of concern in her voice.

"Never better," Crutchie said, looking up and smiling at her.

Ciara didn't look convinced, but decided not to press it further. "Where are you and Jack meeting today?" she asked.

"My dorm," Crutchie answered. "Should be in the next hour or so."

"Well, I'll walk you back," Ciara said, getting up. "I should really head into the shop too for some last-minute hours. Did you complete your hours yet?"

"No, I'se still got a couple left to do," Crutchie admitted.

"Semester's almost over, don't let it slip up on you," Ciara warned.

Crutchie nodded, getting up as well. They both took their cups and plates and left them on the washing rack, then heading out of the cafeteria. They walked back to Crutchie's dorm, Ciara waving bye as they arrived and giving him one last piece of advice; to make a move on Jack before someone else did. Crutchie nodded in understanding, feeling sicker than he already felt. He walked back to his dorm, taking the elevator to the fifth floor and heading to his room. His roommate was gone, as usual. Crutchie rarely ever saw him, save for occasionally at night when he would come in late after spending most of his day at the shop and find his roommate with a girl in a very uncomfortable position, and then promptly would get kicked out of the room until the wee hours of the morning. To say the least, he and his roommate didn't seem to have good communication, but Crutchie tried not to worry about it. The semester was almost over, and soon enough he'd get a new roommate, hopefully one that would be better than the last.

The next hour went by slowly, Crutchie trying to kill the time messing around on his computer. When Jack texted him to let him know he was here, Crutchie immediately got up from his bed and headed down the elevator to let him into the building. They made their way back up to Crutchie's room, Jack filling him in on a story of how that morning at work Race managed to spill hot coffee all over himself and nearly had to be sent to the ER. Luckily, Katherine was good at first aid and decided the burns weren't too serious and just suggested Race take a break to keep some cool rags on his arms. Crutchie was glad to hear Race was okay, nodding and commenting at the appropriate times but having a hard time focusing on the story.

When they got back to the room, Crutchie perused Netflix on his computer, eventually deciding on a new eighties inspired horror TV show. Jack crawled into bed next to him, both laying down with the computer sitting on Crutchie's chest, using pillows to support their heads up to watch the show.

They got through the first few episodes, Jack occasionally making comments on the story and Crutchie nodding in agreement. Every now and then Jack would brush his hand against Crutchie's, or absentmindedly ruffle his hair. Crutchie would smile and bat Jack's hand away playfully, secretly enjoying the contact.

After the fifth episode, Jack suggested they stop watching, deciding he felt like taking a nap. Crutchie complied, closing the computer and handing it to Jack to put on his desk. Jack scooted closer to him, nudging his head against Crutchie's and smiling contently.

"What is you smiling about?" Crutchie asked.

"Nothing," Jack said. "I'se just happy to be here is all."

Crutchie smiled. "You'se a sap, you know that?" he pointed out.

"You'se one to talk," Jack said, adjusting himself so that his arms were wrapped around Crutchie. "I wasn't a sap until I met you, so I must've learned from the best."

Crutchie playfully pushed him away. "Oh, stop," he said, unable to contain his smile.

"I mean it, you'se making me go soft," Jack said, kissing him gently. "You damn rosy cheeked little sap."

"I ain't rosy cheeked," Crutchie complained. "My cheeks is normal colors."

"Oh yeah?" Jack asked, kissing him again. "How about now?" He began kissing his cheeks, smooshing his lips against his skin playfully and traveling down to his jaw. Crutchie laughed, trying to push him away but having no success. Jack continued, pressing soft kisses against his throat and moving down to his collarbones. Crutchie's hands went up to Jack's hair, tangling themselves in the brown mess. Jack's hands traveled down to Crutchie's hips, holding him close as he continued planting kisses along Crutchie's collarbones, occasionally stopping to bite softly.

Crutchie titled his head back, allowing himself to sink further into the pillows. It felt as nice as it always did, but something wasn't right. Jack moved back up to Crutchie's face, biting down on Crutchie's lower lip and sucking softly. Everything was going how it normally went; far enough to please both of them and never outside of Crutchie's comfort zone. Then why did it feel so wrong?

Jack's hands traveled down to Crutchie's thighs, pulling his legs up to wrap around his waist. Crutchie made no moves to argue, simply letting Jack lead as he always did. It was okay; Jack wasn't going to do anything he didn't feel comfortable with. He was safe, he was okay. They were both happy, so why was Crutchie's mind going into a panic?

"Jack," Crutchie breathed, pulling his face away. Jack continued kissing across his face, moving to nibble on his ear. "Jack," Crutchie said again, louder this time. "Jack, stop, please."

Jack immediately pulled away, looking down at Crutchie in confusion. "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.

"I . . . I can't do this," Crutchie said, trying to sit up. Jack moved off of him, allowing Crutchie to move to a sitting position. He continued to stare at Crutchie in confusion, waiting for an explanation. Had he done something wrong?

"Everything okay?" Jack asked, putting a hand on Crutchie's shoulder. Crutchie immediately swiped his hand away, shaking his head.

"Everything ain't okay," Crutchie said. "It's all wrong."

"What's all wrong?" Jack asked, more confused now than he was a moment ago.

"This, us," Crutchie said, indicating between the two of them. "It just ain't right, okay?"

Jack stared at him blankly. "I don't understand," Jack said. "What ain't right about it?"

"It . . . it can't work," Crutchie explained. "I can't work, not with you."

Jack shook his head. "Crutchie, I don't know what you'se talking about, you gotta explain it to me."

"Come on, Jack," Crutchie groaned. "You can't honestly say you'se happy with how things is going."

"Well, what if I says I is?" Jack argued. "Who says I ain't happy?"

"Logic," Crutchie answered. "Logic because . . . well, because it's just logical!"

"You ain't explaining nothing," Jack stated. "I don't know what you'se trying to say."

"I'se saying it can't work," Crutchie said. "The two of us, we want different things. You want something I can't do."

"What are you talking about?" Jack asked. "You mean what we was doing just now? Because if you don't like that we don't ever have to do it again, it's not a big deal."

"Yes, it is," Crutchie said. "Jack, you'se gay, right?"

"Bi, but yes," Jack said, nodding.

"Well, bi people like doing things," Crutchie said. "And people like me, we don't. At least, for the most part. I don't, that is. And it ain't fair to you to be with someone like me who can't give you what you want."

"Who said I wanted it?" Jack asked, crossing his arms.

"It's what everyone else wants," Crutchie argued. "Don't lie to me, Jack. I know you'se wanting it too. I can tell. I always leave you wanting more, more that I can't give. I'se broken, Jack. I'se fucking broken."

"Now hold up," Jack said. "Who the hell said you was broken?"

Crutchie shrugged. "I don't know, people at school, the shop, society as a whole? It's constantly crammed down our throats that everyone wants it, especially in the gay community, but that just ain't the case with me, and as much as I'd like to, I just can't. It ain't fair, Jack. To you, to me, to nobody."

Jack sat back, staring at Crutchie in disbelief. "Is that how you feel?" he asked. "Like this whole relationship ain't right?"

"It can't be," Crutchie said. "It just can't."

"And why's that?" Jack asked. "Because some assholes say you'se supposed to do certain things in a relationship for it to be valid? Cause that ain't true, Crutchie, not one bit."

"Oh please, like you ain't disappointed in the situation," Crutchie said. "Don't you dare lie to me and tell me you'se okay with it."

Jack didn't say anything, instead looking down at his hands.

"See? You'se disappointed! You desperately want something that you can't have with me and it's eating you up inside. Eventually you'se gonna get bored with it all and leave. Don't you dare tell me that ain't true."

Jack was silent, still not meeting Crutchie's eyes.

"You'se been thinking about it too, haven't you?" Crutchie questioned. "You'se tired of the relationship, ain't you?"

"I never said that," Jack said.

"You was thinking it," Crutchie shot back.

Jack sighed. "Crutchie, I'se gonna be real with you for a second, is that okay?"

A sick feeling entered the pit of Crutchie's stomach. He was right; Jack was tired of him. There was no way he wasn't. Of course, he wouldn't want to be with someone like him, someone who was broken. It was unfair to Jack to expect anything more of him. The relationship was doomed from the start. It never would have worked, it couldn't have worked.

Crutchie nodded, not saying anything.

"Okay," Jack said. "First off, I think you'se a real idiot for saying all that. Telling me how I should be feeling or thinking? That ain't right. Second off, you ain't entirely wrong. Sure, there are things I'se used to in a relationship that we'se never done before, and probably never will do, but to think that something like that would make me not want to be with you is just plain stupid. You know why? Because I'se already told you, Crutchie, I love you. I don't love you cause of what I get out of it, or because of anything physical, I love you because of who you are, and the person you inspire me to be. You make me happy just by being in the same room; you make me smile just by saying my name. My life is messed up, Crutchie, and you'se the only thing in it I don't have no complaints about. The things you make me feel, the joy that you bring into my life, that's better than just some physical gratification."

Jack took a breath, pausing for a moment before continuing. "I told Race a while back that I wasn't sure I believed in the whole love deal. Sometimes I still question it. But if it is real, if it ain't just some Hollywood fairy tale, then I believe that what I feel towards you is the real deal. You get that, Crutchie? I love you for who you are, and you are not broken."

Crutchie stared back at him, completely at a loss for words. The next thing Jack knew, tears began pouring down Crutchie's cheeks as his face scrunched up.

"Oh shit," Jack muttered. "I didn't mean-please don't . . ."

But it was too late. Crutchie was already crying, putting his hands up to cover his face.

Jack just sat there, unsure of what to do. How many times was he going to make Crutchie cry in their relationship? He really hoped he hadn't said something wrong, and wished against anything those were happy tears.

Crutchie cried for a while, Jack eventually getting his ass into gear and pulling Crutchie into a hug, holding him as he cried on Jack's shoulder.

"You-you mean all that?" Crutchie sniffled, his voice muffled into Jack's shoulder.

"Course I do," Jack said softly, rubbing his back soothingly. "You'se my best friend; I wouldn't lie to you."

"Even though I'se ace, you still want to be with me?" Crutchie asked, his voice hitching.

"Hell yeah I do," Jack said. "Your comfort is more important to me than my own personal interests."

Crutchie sniffled again. "You'se an idiot, Jack Kelly," he said, lightly punching him in the arm.

"Ow, and you'se stronger than you look," Jack complained, rubbing his now sore arm.

"Oh, toughen up," Crutchie said, laughing a little.

Jack smiled, still holding him. Slowly, Jack rocked by and forth, gently running his fingers through Crutchie's hair. He began to hum a familiar tune, causing Crutchie to perk up a little.

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine," Jack softly sang. "You make me happy when skies are grey. You'll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away."

Crutchie smiled into his shoulder, wrapping his arms around his neck.

Jack continued to sing, only knowing the one verse of the song so deciding to simply sing it over and over again. After the third time, Crutchie joined in, singing softly in Jack's ear.

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are grey. You'll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away."

Crutchie was still sniffling, and Jack started to think it was high time he made him laugh. Without warning, Jack suddenly pushed Crutchie back down on the bed, tickling him mercilessly.

"Ah, no stop!" Crutchie cried, beginning to laugh. He tried to swat Jack's hands away, but Jack wasn't going to relent so easily.

"Make me, Morris!" Jack said, pulling up Crutchie's shirt and beginning to tickle his stomach. Crutchie howled, trying to protect himself but unable to get away from Jack's hands. Jack leaned down, kissing his stomach and occasionally blowing hard on it, making Crutchie giggle all the more.

"Stop, that tickles!" Crutchie exclaimed through laughter, trying to pull up his knees in defense, but Jack had his legs pinned down.

"Yeah, that's kinda the point," Jack said, blowing hard again and making Crutchie nearly sit up in reflex. They continued this for quite some time, Crutchie screaming for Jack to stop and Jack never once relenting.

Eventually, the doorknob turned, and the dorm room door pulled open, Crutchie's roommate walking inside. Jack immediately stopped, nearly falling out of the bed with surprise. He was on top of Crutchie, in a very conspicuous position, and it took all of Jack's power to not burst into laughter then and there at the sight of Crutchie's roommate's expression.

"What the hell?" the roommate asked, staring at them in confusion and disgust.

Crutchie's face turned red with embarrassment. "I can explain," he started, but was interrupted by Jack's sudden laughter.

"Actually no, there's no explanation for this," Jack stated, sitting up and holding his sides with laughter.

Slowly the roommate backed out of the room, closing the door behind him. Jack looked down at Crutchie, who also burst out laughing.

"Well, that could have been a lot worse," Jack said, still shaking with giggles.

"It's no worse than what I'se walked into on him," Crutchie stated, sitting up and wiping the tears from his eyes from laughing so hard.

Jack smiled. "I love you, Crutchie," he said, pulling him into a tight hug. "With all of my heart."

Crutchie smiled, hugging him back. He didn't doubt for one moment that those words were true.


	24. Chapter 24

**Trigger warning for alcohol use.**

"You'se all smiles," Spot commented as Jack got into the front seat of his car.

"Am I?" Jack asked, grinning from ear to ear.

Spot sighed. "You and Crutchie have a good time today?" he asked, pulling out of the dorm parking lot and making his way to his next destination.

"The best," Jack said, leaning back in the seat, feeling contented.

"We still gotta pick up Davey and then we'se heading out, sounds good?" Spot asked.

"Sounds good," Jack agreed, and suddenly remembered put on his seatbelt.

"You? Wearing a seatbelt?" Spot noted, surprised. "That's new."

"Crutchie knew we were going out tonight and all but commanded that I wear one," Jack said, shrugging. "The kid's worried we'se gonna get in trouble or something tonight."

"Nah, it'll be alright," Spot assured him. "Just remember, beer before liquor, never sicker. Liquor before beer, you'se in the clear."

"Huh?" Jack asked, confused.

"Just be smart with your drinking," Spot told him.

Jack nodded emphatically. "Yes, dad."

"Sorry, it's about a week after your birthday, but it's the first night we all had free," Spot said apologetically.

"Nah, it's fine," Jack assured him. "I appreciate it nonetheless."

Spot nodded, and they continued to drive in silence. They picked up Davey, who got into the back seat, and made their way to the bar that Spot swore was the best in town. If Jack were honest with himself, he would admit that he was a little nervous. He'd never actually had alcohol before, and certainly had never been to a bar. But he was with Spot, who was well versed in the culture, and Davey, who practically radiated safety vibes. It was going to be a good night, Jack was certain of it.

They all crammed into a booth, looking over the menu and deciding on some food to start with. Their waitress was a young girl, no older than her early twenties, with a friendly smile that didn't quite meet her eyes. They ordered their food and the waitress left to put in their order, leaving the three to themselves.

"So, how was work today?" Jack asked Davey, leaning back in his seat.

Davey shook his head. "We are not talking about work," he said. "This is my relaxation time. How about you? How was Crutchie?"

"Crutchie's good," Jack answered. "Admittedly, we had a long talk today, and for a moment there I thought he was breaking up with me, but it all worked out in the end."

"Everything okay between you two?" Davey asked, concerned.

"Better than okay," Jack said. "It was just sort of a misunderstanding."

"And how about you and Race?" Davey asked, looking at Spot.

"The usual," Spot answered. "Ain't much going on at all, just life, you know?"

"You two have been together for almost a year now, right?" Jack asked.

"Will be a year this summer," Spot answered.

"You guys moved in together pretty fast," Davey noted.

"He needed a place to stay and I needed someone to help pay the rent," Spot said. "It was the most convenient arrangement."

"And you're living with them now too?" Davey asked Jack.

Jack nodded. "It's been what? Three weeks?"

"Four, I think," Spot corrected.

"Why is that, anyways?" Davey asked. "I know you moved in with them, but why?"

Just as he asked, the waitress came back with some waters for them. Spot ordered a drink and the waitress took note, leaving them once again.

"So?" Davey asked, taking a sip of his water.

"It's . . . complicated," Jack answered, swirling his water around with a straw.

"Complicated as in you don't want to talk about it?" Davey guessed.

Jack looked down. "Things at home were . . . bad," he explained.

Davey nodded. "Your step dad that much of a jerk, huh?"

"If it wasn't obvious from his display at the shop the other day," Spot pointed out, gulping down his water.

"He's not . . . a bad person, is he?" Davey asked. "I mean, you two were just not getting along, right?"

Jack shook his head. "It was worse than that," he explained.

"I don't understand," Davey said.

"Hey, just like you don't want to talk about work, maybe this ain't a good topic to be on, alright?" Spot suggested.

"Okay, I just wanted to make sure things were okay," Davey said. "What happened the other day really worried me, you know?"

"Things are okay now," Jack assured him.

"You sure?" Davey asked.

Jack nodded. "Positive."

"Alright," Davey said, picking up the menu and looking over the drinks. "So, Jack, what's it gonna be?"

"Like I know what anything is," Jack retorted. "You pick for me."

Spot and Davey looked over the menu, eventually deciding on starting him off with a screwdriver. Jack had no idea what a screwdriver was, but agreed to it anyways.

A few minutes later the waitress came back with their food and drinks, setting them down on the table. The three thanked her and dug in, all of them reasonably hungry after the long day.

"Try your drink," Spot told Jack, taking a gulp of his own.

Jack picked up his glass, which was filled with what looked to him like orange juice. He took an experimental sip, turning a face at the taste.

"What's in this?" he asked, scrunching up his face.

"Vodka," Davey answered. "It's good."

Jack took another sip, which he decided was better than the first. He tried taking a larger sip, but Spot grabbed his hand, stopping him.

"Steady, Jack," he warned. "Pace yourself."

Jack groaned but nodded, setting down the glass.

They finished their food reasonably quickly, all ordering a second drink and making casual conversation. The bar was playing music loudly, and as it got later into the night the busier the establishment became. Jack felt himself getting a weird tight feeling in his chest, something that felt similar to when he had those episodes that Race had called anxiety. Was he an anxious person? He never thought of himself as such, but perhaps he was? Shaking his head, he simply had more to drink, hoping the alcohol would ease his nerves.

The night wore on, all of them having their fair share of drinks. Spot said he wouldn't have more than two, since he needed to drive them all home, but decided to try having a third instead.

"Spot, don't have too much," Davey warned him.

"It's fine, I'se got a high tolerance," Spot assured him. "I'se driven home having more than this before."

"If you say so," Davey said, taking a sip of his drink.

The room started to feel fuzzy. Jack was on his third drink as well, and he was beginning to feel it. He felt sluggish, like the world was moving too slowly. And his heart was still racing, the added noise of the bar and the amount of people inside only adding to the stress he was feeling. He hoped that if he just had more to drink he would feel better, but he was starting to think that the drinks might be making him feel worse.

"Hey guys, I ain't feeling so hot," Jack admitted after a while, Davey having just ordered himself and Jack a fourth drink.

"Do we need to go?" Davey asked, concerned.

Jack nodded. "I think so," he said.

"We'll get the check and then head out," Spot said, leaning back in his seat.

"And you're sure you're good enough to drive?" Davey questioned. "Cause we can get an Uber or something if we need to, or take the bus."

"Nah, I'se good," Spot said. "I don't even feel anything."

"That makes one of us," Jack said, feeling as if he were ready to puke.

"Yeah, you don't look so good," Davey agreed. "Might've overdone it for your first time."

"Excuse me," Spot called when their waitress came near their table. "Could we get the check?"

The waitress nodded, heading off again as Spot thanked her.

"So, your first taste of alcohol; how does it feel?" Davey asked.

"I feel disgusting," Jack admitted, laughing a little uncomfortably.

"You lightweight," Spot said, laughing. "Guess we can't take him out, after all, huh Davey?"

"Nah, he just needs time to get acclimated to it," Davey said. "Baby steps, baby steps."

"You guys come out together often?" Jack asked, curious.

"Eh, every now and then," Davey said. "Not often though, as neither of us have much time."

"Yeah, but when we do it's a good time," Spot said. "Jacobs here can really hold his liquor."

"Yeah, unlike Spot here who got drunk after five drinks," Davey joked.

"That was one time," Spot argued. "And that's because they was strong drinks and not much food on my stomach, alright?"

Jack laughed. "I thought you had a high tolerance?"

"You try having three fireballs and see how you feel afterwards," Spot told him.

The waitress came back with their check and Spot and Davey split it between them, telling Jack not to worry, that this was still a late birthday gift to him. Jack thanked them, not wanting to waste time arguing so they could leave faster.

Once the check was paid, they all got up from their seats, Jack feeling a little uncertain on his feet. They made it out of the bar and headed back to the car, Jack just barely stumbling in.

"Yeah, you'se a lightweight alright," Spot noted, getting in the car.

"Shut up," Jack said, remembering Crutchie's words and putting on his seatbelt.

Spot pulled out of the parking space and drove out onto the road, turning up the radio as he did so. "So, all in all, how was your night?" he asked Jack.

"I'll feel better when it's over," Jack admitted.

"Sorry it wasn't the best time for you," Davey apologized.

"Nah, it's fine," Jack said. "I think it was just too crowded in there."

"Race is the same way," Spot said. "He hates crowded places. Makes him nervous."

"I feel that," Jack said, resting his head on the side of the door.

Spot braked quickly honking his horn. "Move your damn ass, you fucking moron!" he snapped at the car in front of them. "I swear, people in this city can't drive."

"You'se the one who's always trying to drive too fast," Jack pointed out.

"I'se just trying to get where I need to go," Spot told him, honking his horn again. "Idiot," he muttered.

"We ain't in a rush, don't worry about it," Davey told him, leaning forward in his seat. "And would you turn down the radio? I hate this song."

Spot promptly turned the music up louder.

"Gee, thanks," Davey grumbled.

"I like this song," Spot argued. "Driver gets to decide on the music, not the guy in the backseat."

"Actually, I think the guy in the passenger seat should control the radio," Davey stated.

"Whoa, leave me out of this," Jack said, raising his hands.

"Geez, Spot, slow down, would you?" Davey said, noting Spot's driving. He was pushing forty-five in a thirty-five zone.

"I always drive this fast," Spot stated. "It ain't a problem."

"It will be a problem when you get pulled," Davey pointed out. "And you've been drinking."

"I told you, I didn't have that much," Spot argued. "It ain't a problem."

"Hey guys," Jack said, looking ahead.

"I know, but you had three drinks, and I think you should just be safer than sorry," Davey told him.

"Guys," Jack said again, more urgently this time.

"I told you I'se all good," Spot said. "My head ain't swirling, I don't feel sluggish, I'se doing good."

"Yes, but-" Davey started.

"Guys!" Jack shouted, pointing ahead.

Spot slammed on breaks, just now noticing the red light in front of them. The car screeched to a stop, halting in the middle of the intersection.

"What the hell, Spot!" Davey cried. "Weren't you watching the-"

Davey's words were cut off. It happened too fast, Jack barely registering the sound of a car horn blaring to his right.

The bright lights coming up on his side was the last thing he noticed, and the faint sound of someone screaming on his left.

* * *

"So . . . are you gay?" Crutchie's roommate asked, staring at him as Crutchie climbed into bed.

Crutchie shrugged. "Yeah," he answered. "Why?"

"I mean, I don't have a problem with that," his roommate started. "But like, could you not be gay in the dorm room? That was way too uncomfortable walking in on earlier."

"I mean, I'se had to walk in on you before," Crutchie pointed out.

"Yeah, but that's different, that was with a girl," his roommate pointed out.

Crutchie didn't dignify that answer with a response, instead settling for fluffing his pillows and lying down on his bed. His phone rang, and for a moment Crutchie considered not answering it. But he knew Jack was going out tonight, and figured it was a good idea to check and make sure it wasn't him.

He grabbed his phone, looking at the caller ID and seeing Race's name. What was Race doing calling him at one in the morning?

"Hello?" Crutchie asked, answering the phone.

"Crutchie, oh god, Crutchie," Race's voice came through the receiver. His voice sounded strained, as if he were on the edge of tears.

Crutchie's sat up quickly. "Race, what's up?" he asked, trying to sound casual and mask the worry that was taking over. It was probably fine; he probably was just imagining things.

"We'se on our way to your dorm," Race said, his voice urgent.

"Why? Who's we?" Crutchie asked, panic rising. "Race, what's going on?"

"Katherine and I," Race explained. "Davey called her . . . it's not good."

"Race, what's going on?" Crutchie demanded, getting up from his bed.

"Just be at the front entrance in five," Race told him. "I'll explain on the way."

The line went dead, Crutchie looking at his phone in disbelief. Something had happened. Something bad. He immediately began putting his clothes and shoes back on, grabbing his crutch and heading to the door.

"Something wrong?" his roommate called after him, but Crutchie didn't answer, slamming the door behind himself.

Katherine and Race were waiting in the car by the front entrance, just as Race said. Crutchie got into the car without question, hopping into the backseat. "What the hell is going on?" he asked as soon as he closed the door, putting his seatbelt on.

"There was an accident," Katherine explained, her voice sounding far too calm for the situation. "Davey didn't say much on the phone, just where to go."

"And where are we going?" Crutchie asked, already knowing the answer.

"The hospital," Katherine answered, and Crutchie felt his heart fall into his stomach.

No one said a word on the drive there, Crutchie just trying to keep himself calm. He absentmindedly picked at his fingers, trying to ignore Race sniffling in the front seat. They were going to be okay; it wasn't as bad as he was imagining. It had to be okay, it just had to be.

When they finally arrived, the three rushed inside, Race breaking out into a run and leaving Katherine and Crutchie behind. They eventually caught up with him in the waiting room, where Race stood by the nurses' station, demanding to be told where their friends were.

"Sean Conlon, Davey Jacobs, and Jack Kelly," Race was saying. "They should be here."

The nurse looked over the chart on her computer. "Yes, we have a Sean Conlon and Davey Jacobs, but no Jack Kelly," she told him.

"Jack Kelly, with no E," Race explained. "He should have arrived at the same time as the other two."

"Sorry, that name isn't listed here," the nurse apologized.

"Well, can we see the other two?" Race asked, his voice urgent.

"They're still in the ER," the nurse explained. "You'll have to wait until they're assigned to a room or discharged."

"Dammit," Race snapped. "Well, how long will that be?" he asked.

"It all depends on what the doctors say," the nurse said.

"Race," Katherine said, putting her hand on his shoulder. "Let's just wait out here, okay? I'll call Davey and see what's up, alright?"

Race nodded. "Okay," he hesitantly agreed.

They took their seats, Katherine pulling out her phone and trying to get in touch with Davey, but there was no answer. Crutchie sat quietly, trying to hold back the sick feeling that was clawing at his stomach. What had happened? Why wasn't Davey answering his phone now? And why wasn't Jack's name listed at the nurses' station? He tried to remain calm, but in that moment he was feeling anything but.

"It'll be okay," Katherine assured him, patting his knee reassuringly. "Davey was okay, so the others are probably fine too."

Crutchie just nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He hoped Katherine was right, for their sakes.

It felt like an eternity passed before Katherine's phone rang, her answering it within the first ring.

"Hello?" she asked. "Oh, Davey, thank goodness. Where are you?" She paused. "Room 203? Alright we're on our way."

She hung up the phone, immediately getting to her feet, promptly followed by Race and Crutchie. Wordlessly, they followed her out of the waiting room, taking the elevator up to the second floor and making their way to room 203. When Katherine opened the door, they found Davey and Spot inside, Davey pacing the room and Spot sitting on his bed, a nurse taking his blood pressure. There was a bandage wrapped around his head, and his face looked bruised.

"Oh, thank god," Katherine said, entering the room and immediately going up to Davey, giving him a hug. Race entered the room after her, rushing to Spot's side.

"What the hell happened to ya?" Race asked, leaning down to get a better look at Spot's face. He instinctively reached out a hand to touch where a bruise was forming on his cheek, but Spot slapped his hand away.

"What's the matter with you?" Race demanded, backing up.

"Shut up, Higgins," Spot muttered, not meeting his eyes.

The nurse finished checking his blood pressure, writing the results down on a clipboard and exiting the room. Race looked between Spot and Davey, taking in their worried expressions.

"What happened?" Race asked, looking at Davey now. He looked shaken up, and like he was going to pass out any minute. Katherine tried to get him to sit down, but Davey just swatted her hands away.

"Ran a red light," Davey explained quietly. "Car hit our side."

"Are you alright?" Katherine asked.

"Doctor says I have a concussion," Davey said. "Spot got a nasty gash on his forehead."

"What are you doing standing up?" Katherine demanded. "Sit down!"

"I can't, alright?" Davey snapped. "I'm too on edge!"

"Why the hell did you run a red light?" Race asked, looking back at Spot.

Neither of them answered, Davey just glaring at Spot as he looked down absently at his hands.

"Spot," Race snapped. "You never run lights. Why did you run one tonight?"

"Because he was too busy arguing with me about how much he had to drink tonight," Davey seethed. "Because he was too proud to admit that he had too much and decided to drive, anyways."

"I thought you said you weren't going to have much tonight," Race said quietly.

Spot didn't look up at him, still looking down at his hands.

"How much did you have?" Race asked.

Spot didn't answer.

"I said how much did you have?" Race demanded raising his voice.

"I only had three drinks!" Spot snapped. "It wasn't that much."

"Three? You always told me your limit was two for driving," Race argued.

"He didn't tell us that," Davey snapped.

"I told you, I felt fine," Spot shot back. "I was driving okay until I hit that light."

"You could have gotten yourself killed!" Race shouted. "What the hell were you thinking? No, don't answer that. You wasn't thinking. You promised you was going to be safe tonight. Why did you decide to drive?"

"It's not like I swerved or nothing, I just missed the light," Spot argued. "Davey was the one distracting me from the road."

"Oh, don't you dare pin this on me," Davey snapped. "You should have been watching where you were going."

"Guys," Crutchie said, his voice sounding small. "Where's Jack?"

The room grew quiet, neither Davey nor Spot wanting to be the one to answer.

Crutchie swallowed hard. "Where is Jack?" he asked again, his voice cracking.

"Ask him," Davey said quietly, indicating to Spot.

Crutchie looked over at him, and Spot immediately looked back down at his hands.

"Spot, please tell me," Crutchie said, walking up to his bedside. "The nurse didn't have him listed, so we couldn't find out where he was. You gotta know, right?"

Spot looked up at him, his eyes brimming with tears. "Crutchie . . ." he started, his voice barely above a whisper. "You ain't gonna want to hear this."

Crutchie's breath hitched in his throat, and he felt his heart sink lower than it ever had before. When Spot uttered his next words, it took everything Crutchie had to stay upright.

What had started out as a good night ended in a nightmare.


	25. Chapter 25

**I am so sorry for all of this.**

 **Also, big shoutout to everyone who reads this and reviews regularly. It means the world to me and you guys are the real reason I keep writing.**

Crutchie looked down at his phone. It was almost 5:00am. He sighed; he was grateful it was a Sunday, so he wouldn't be missing any classes, but depending on how the day went, he might have to skip his Monday classes after all. He and Katherine and Race were sitting in the waiting room with Davey's family, who had showed up half an hour ago. They still hadn't gotten the chance to see Davey, as no one was allowed in his and Spot's room at the moment. The police had showed up, needing to talk to Spot about the situation. It didn't look good, but it was still too soon to tell what exactly was going to happen to him. Crutchie hoped for the best, even if the best did look bleak.

Another twenty minutes passed and they were all allowed back into the room, Davey's parents rushing in to see him. Davey had lied down, complaining of a headache. Davey's parents wouldn't look at Spot, pretending like he wasn't in the room. There was an uncomfortable tension, Crutchie could feel it, but no one was willing to address it. Not yet.

Spot sat on his bed, crumpling the bed sheets in his hands. The images of what happened kept replaying in his head. A loud horn and bright lights coming towards them on their right. Spot turned to look as the car hit, sending their vehicle flying to the side. It all happened so fast, he didn't even register when he hit his head. All he knew was that something was dripping down his face, and was vaguely aware of Davey's screams suddenly cut off. He looked to his right, over to see Jack. The car had hit his side; Spot called out name, screamed it over and over again.

But Jack didn't answer.

"So?" Race asked, sitting down on the bed next to Spot, pulling him out of his thoughts suddenly, causing him to jerk. Spot didn't look up at him, finding something more interesting in the floor tiles to stare at.

"Look at me, Spot," Race commanded. "What did they say?"

"My BAC was 0.06," Spot mumbled. "Says I'se probably gonna get charged with reckless driving."

"That's better than a DUI," Race said. "And this was your first offense, so maybe they'll let you off easy?"

Spot shrugged. "Yeah, maybe."

Race looked around the room; he could feel the eyes of Davey's parents burning into his back. They were talking in hushed voices to Davey, too quiet for Race to hear. With a huff, Race stood up and grabbed the curtain divider, closing it around Spot's bed.

Spot looked up, Race now taking a seat on the bed in front of him. "Now, you listen to me, and you listen good," Race said quietly. "You'se gotta shitload of troubles coming your way, and there ain't nothing I can do to help you. You made your bed, now you have to lie in it. You saw Davey's family out there? They was scared to death when they came in here, thinking that something terrible had happened to their son. And that's on you, you hear me?"

"You ain't telling me nothing I don't already know," Spot snapped. "What are you trying to prove?"

"I'se trying to get it through to your head that you messed up," Race said. "Big time. You better be glad that other driver didn't get hurt or else you'd have more charges pressed against you. Do you realize what you'se done? You could go to jail for this, Spot. At the very least you could lose your job, and you probably will. You certainly ain't driving again no time soon. Who knows if Davey will ever speak to you again. And Jack?" Race paused, his throat feeling suddenly tight. "You ruined lives tonight, Spot, and it wasn't just yours."

Spot didn't say anything, looking down at his hands to avoid Race's eyes.

"Look at me," Race snapped. "Do you hear me? You ruined lives! I ain't never seen no one cry as hard as Crutchie did tonight. This is going to go on your record for life! All because you had to be stupid and try to drive when you shouldn't have!"

Spot fidgeted with the edge of his sheets. "I'se sorry," he mumbled, still not looking up at Race.

"The hell, you better be sorry!" Race cried. "When Katherine called me, I thought you was dead! I thought you was all dead and I would never get to see the one person I care about in this stupid world more than anything again! Sorry won't fix that, sorry won't fix any of it. You could have been dead and then where would I be? What the hell would I do without you, Spot?"

Spot grasped the sheets in his hands, clenching his fists tightly. "I'se sorry," he mumbled again.

"To hell with your sorry!" Race snapped, hitting Spot in the shoulder. "To hell with you and your stupid excuses!" He hit Spot again, and again, each swing growing weaker and weaker as he began to break down. He crashed into Spot's chest, wrapping his arms around him tightly and crying. Spot sat there, stunned, hanging his head low and slowly wrapping his arms around Race.

"I'se so sorry," Spot repeated, burying his face into Race's hair. "I'se so, so sorry."

"Screw you and your sorrys," Race mumbled, his voice muffled against Spot's chest.

Crutchie and Katherine stood by the door of their room, neither of them knowing what to do. Occasionally Sarah would look up at Katherine, her eyes pleading for some sort of reassurances. Katherine would only smile in return, not knowing what else she could do to make things better.

Crutchie felt numb, barely registering anything that was going on around him. He distracted himself with thoughts of school, and the test that was waiting for him on Monday. Had he studied enough? Would it even matter? Was he going to show up at all? He barely felt like he had the energy to stand, let alone go to class. Maybe things would be better by then? But somehow, he doubted it. Would things ever get better after this?

The room door slowly pushed itself open, and everyone immediately straightened up, all looking over at the doctor who had entered the room.

"Good morning," the doctor said, trying to sound pleasant. It was a valiant effort, but didn't quite achieve its goal.

Hearing the doctor, Race got up and pushed the curtain back, standing with apprehension.

"What's the news?" Davey asked, slowly pulling himself out of bed and walking over to the doctor, his face lined with worry.

"Your friend is awake now," the doctor informed them. "But it looks like he has a moderate traumatic brain injury and multiple lacerations, as well as a broken wrist."

"What does that mean?" Race asked, concerned.

"A moderate traumatic brain injury means he'll be very dazed and confused for a while," the doctor explained. "As well as nausea, vomiting, drainage, loss of memory, agitation, and possible cognitive losses."

"But, he'll be okay, right?" Race asked.

"I'll want to monitor him for at least the next twenty-four hours," the doctor said. "Mr. Jacobs, you should be good for discharge by later this morning. Mr. Conlon, you should be free to go around the same time as well; I assume the police have already come by and spoken with you?"

Spot nodded, but didn't say anything.

"Can we see him?" Katherine asked. "Can we see Jack?"

The doctor hesitated. "Mr. Sullivan is still very out of it, I'm not sure that would be a good idea just yet."

"Who the hell is Sullivan?" Race asked.

"The third man that was in the car," the doctor explained. "Francis Sullivan."

"No, the third guy in the car was Jack," Race argued. "Jack Kelly."

"Actually," Davey spoke up. "About that . . . that's not his name."

"What the hell you mean that's not his name?" Race asked, confused.

"The name on his birth certificate and ID is Francis Sullivan," Davey explained. "When we arrived, I had to give the doctors that name, not Jack Kelly."

Race stared at him in confusion, looking over between Katherine and Spot, who both nodded in affirmation. He looked over at Crutchie, who appeared just as confused as he felt.

"Why the hell does he got two names?" Race questioned, looking back at Davey.

Davey shrugged. "Katherine and I didn't question it when he asked to be called something different from the name on his application. Just thought it was a personal preference."

"When can we see him?" Katherine asked, looking to the doctor.

"I would give it a few more hours," the doctor advised. "Too much stimulation could make things worse just now."

"I want to see him," Crutchie said firmly.

"That isn't a good idea," the doctor told him.

"I don't care, I want to see him now," Crutchie argued, straightening up.

The doctor sighed. "It would be preferred that family were with him right now. Mr. Jacobs, did you ever hear back from his parents?"

"I left a message on his home phone," Davey said. "But haven't heard anything back."

"You called his home?" Spot asked, sitting up straighter. "Davey, what the hell are you doing?"

"They asked me if he had any family to call, so I did," Davey snapped at him. "I don't see why that's a problem."

"Davey, you idiot," Race muttered. "Of all the people you could have called, that was the last person you should have went to."

"Why? No one tells me anything, so how am I supposed to know?" Davey asked, frustrated.

"Remember what happened a few days ago, at the shop?" Race demanded. "That should have been evidence enough!"

"Stop arguing, both of you," Katherine snapped. "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it. For now, we're the only ones that are here," she said, looking back to the doctor. "And we would appreciate it if at least a couple of us could go and see him."

The doctor thought about it for a moment. "I would prefer you not, but if you insist. I just ask that you try not to cause him any added stress."

Katherine sighed. "Thank you," she said.

The doctor gave them the room number, which was only down the hall from where they were. Katherine and Crutchie decided to go, Race choosing to stay with Spot for the time being.

When they reached his room, they found Jack sitting up in a bed, listening as a nurse asked him questions. With each answer, Jack would nod or shake his head, occasionally answering verbally, but his words sounded slurred and uncertain. Katherine and Crutchie entered the room, causing Jack to look over at them, and a confused look played across his face.

Crutchie's heart sank. He looked terrible. There were several cuts on his face, quite a few of them with stitches, and his right hand was in a cast. Jack was staring at them blankly, as if he didn't know who they were. A few moments later, though, the recognition seemed to come back, and he pulled up a small smile at them.

"Heya guys," he said, his voice sounding not quite like his own. It was too absent, not charged with emotion like it normally was. Crutchie walked over to his bedside, not saying a word. He and Jack locked eyes for a moment before Crutchie flung himself at him, pulling him into a tight hug, all but falling onto him.

"Whoa, hello," Jack groaned, laughing a little dryly. "Has it been that long since we'se seen each other?"

"I thought you was dead," Crutchie mumbled into Jack's shoulder. "You scared me."

Jack frowned. "But I'se right here," he said.

"But before," Crutchie stammered. "I didn't know what happened to you. You said you would be careful, you promised."

"I was careful," Jack assured him. "They said I had my seatbelt on and everything."

Crutchie smiled, still not letting go of him. The nurse beside them made a disapproving noise, getting up from her seat and heading towards the door.

"If you need anything, Francis, just press the button beside your bed, okay?" she said.

Jack nodded. "I hear ya," he responded, the nurse leaving the room shortly after.

"Since when was your name Francis?" Crutchie asked, pulling away and looking at Jack in the face. He quickly wiped at his eyes, noticing a few stray tears that had sprung out. He didn't want Jack to see him upset; the last thing he needed to do was make Jack worry.

Jack groaned. "They keep calling me that," he said. "I kept telling them my name is Jack, but they won't listen to me."

"Jack, Francis is your first name, remember?" Katherine asked, walking up to the bedside.

"That don't mean I have to like it," Jack complained.

"I don't understand," Crutchie said. "Your name is Jack Kelly, ain't it?"

Jack sighed. "Jack was just a nickname my mother would call me," he explained. "Kelly was my dad's last name."

"So, is Sullivan your mom's name?" Crutchie asked.

Jack nodded. "Yeah," he said. "Snyder would always refer to me as Kelly, though, and I guess it kinda stuck. Who wants a name like Francis Sullivan, anyways?"

"It doesn't suit you," Katherine agreed.

"Hey, where's Davey and Spot?" Jack asked. "I kept asking about them but no one would tell me nothing?"

"They'se down the hall," Crutchie answered. "Doctor says they'll both be discharged in a few hours probably."

"Hmm, lucky them," Jack muttered. "Doctor says I ain't gonna get out for another day or two."

"How are you feeling?" Katherine asked, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Like hell," Jack answered. "I got a killer headache, and everything aches, and I feel like I could puke any minute. It's hard to think, too. Like, it took me a couple of seconds to realize who you guys were when you came in the door."

"Doctor says you'se got a moderate traumatic brain injury," Crutchie explained. "Whatever that means."

Jack groaned. "That don't sound pleasant at all," he grumbled.

"You're alive," Katherine said. "Be thankful for that."

"Do you think I could see Davey and Spot?" Jack asked. "Nurses won't let me leave the room."

"You'll have to wait until they're discharged," Katherine said. "It should be a few more hours."

"I want to talk to them," Jack complained. "I don't remember what really happened."

"What's the last thing you remember?" Crutchie asked.

Jack shrugged. "Getting in the car," he said. "I think Spot and Davey were arguing about something, but I don't really know. Next thing I know I wake up here with my head pounding into the next century."

"Would you like me to fill you in on what happened?" Katherine asked. "I've already been relayed the story."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Crutchie asked, not wanting to cause Jack any undue stress.

"I want to know," Jack said. "Tell me."

Katherine took a breath. "Well, Spot ran a red light. Apparently, he and Davey were arguing about something, I think about how much Spot had to drink. A car hit you on your side; luckily, that was the only car to hit you. Davey went out for a few minutes, but he and Spot were both conscious when the ambulance brought them in. You weren't."

Jack listened to her carefully. "And they'se okay now?" he asked.

"Davey has a small concussion, and Spot has a pretty nasty gash on his forehead, but for the most part they're fine," Katherine assured him.

"Did Spot get into any trouble," Jack asked, sounding concerned.

Katherine thought about that for a moment. "I don't know, you'll have to ask him."

Jack frowned. "He said he was okay," he said.

"I know," Katherine responded. "But clearly he was wrong."

"I don't understand," Jack said. "Spot don't make mistakes like that. He never does."

"Everyone screws up sometimes," Katherine told him. "He just screwed up big time."

"I wanna talk to him," Jack said. "Now."

"You can't," Crutchie said. "Neither of you can leave your rooms."

"Then someone find my phone so I can call him," Jack said.

"Jack, I don't think that's a good idea," Katherine said. "Right now, you need to rest. You can talk to him in a few hours."

"But I want to talk to him now," Jack complained.

"Jack, please, just wait," Katherine told him. "Worry about yourself right now."

"Someone's gotta let him know I ain't mad at him," Jack argued. "He's probably beating himself up over it right now."

"As he should be," Katherine said. "He did a bad thing."

"But he was fine," Jack stated. "He wasn't walking funny or nothing; I remember that much."

"Just because someone has a high tolerance doesn't mean they can't still be intoxicated," Katherine explained.

"Jack, please don't worry about it right now," Crutchie pleaded. "You got enough to worry about as it is."

Jack made a face, frowning at Crutchie. "I want to sleep," he said.

"That's probably a good idea," Katherine said. "We'll leave you alone, if you like."

"No, stay here," Jack said, grabbing onto Crutchie. "I don't want to be alone when I wake up."

"I'll stay with you," Crutchie assured him. "You just get some sleep, alright?"

Jack nodded, lying back down on the bed. Crutchie looked up at Katherine, who stayed there for a moment longer before Crutchie gave her a nod, letting her know he had things taken care of here. Katherine gave him a nod in return and exited the room, going back down the hall to see Davey and Spot.

Crutchie looked down at Jack, who had already fallen back asleep. Tentatively, Crutchie lied down next to him, careful not to disturb him. Eventually he fell asleep as well, holding on tight to Jack in his sleep, as if he would vanish during their slumber.

Katherine entered the room, finding that Davey had gone to sleep. His parents were sitting by his bed, talking in hushed voices and occasionally glancing at Spot and Race across the room. Les was in the bed with Davey, sleeping as well, while Sarah stood by the door, waiting for Katherine to return.

"How is he?" Sarah asked, her voice quiet.

"A bit out of it, but he'll be okay," Katherine said, smiling encouragingly. "How's Davey?"

"Sleeping now," Sarah said. "He still had a headache last I heard. Is that normal for it to last so long?"

Katherine nodded. "I'm sure he'll be fine," she assured her.

"Mom and dad are . . . livid," Sarah whispered, glancing over at Spot and Race.

"Join the club," Katherine replied.

"It was an accident though, right?" Sarah said. "He didn't mean to . . ."

"No one ever means to, but it doesn't make it okay," Katherine whispered.

"Hey," Race said, getting up from Spot's bed. "How's Jack?"

"Fine, he's sleeping," Katherine answered. "Crutchie stayed with him so he wouldn't be alone."

"Good," Race said. "I'se gonna pop in and see him for a minute, just to see that he's okay."

Katherine nodded in understanding, stepping out of the way so Race could exit the room. She looked back at Spot, who was still absentmindedly crinkling the bed sheets in his hands, making eye contact with no one. Katherine wanted to say something, anything to him to express her disappointment and anger. But she couldn't bring herself to do it, not yet. For now, she would give him time. She was sure Race had already given him hell, not to mention talking to the cops as well. No, he'd get a break for now. She would give him hell later.

Race walked down to the hall to the room the doctor had mentioned Jack was staying in. He found both Jack and Crutchie lying in the bed, fast asleep. Crutchie was clinging to Jack like his life depended on it, and maybe in some ways it did. He hadn't known anyone to be so close so fast before; he couldn't even say that he and Spot were as close as the pair of them were, at least it didn't feel that way to him. Or maybe that was the frustration talking. Either way, he was glad to see Jack alive and well, even though it looked like he'd been through hell.

Race lingered for a moment longer before leaving the room, heading back down the hall to the other. He had no idea what the next days would bring, what it would mean for all of them and how much their lives would change. But he was certain nothing would be the same, not after this. It broke his heart, but there was nothing he could do about it now. Other than be there for the people he cared about and try to help in any way he could.

It was going to be a long ride.


	26. Chapter 26

**And with this chapter I have officially surpassed my writing goal of reaching passed 76,944 words! In other words, this fic is now longer than Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, which is a huge milestone for me. Thank you all so much for reading this and leaving nice reviews! It means the world to me. Also, if you want totally look me up on tumblr under the name actingwithportals. I'd love to hear from you! Thanks again for reading, you guys are the best!**

Crutchie stirred, the blanket of slumber being pulled away from his eyes. The first thing he noticed was Jack, still fast asleep next to him. His face was contorted, as if he were having a bad dream. Crutchie looked around him, noticing the light shining in through the windows. The sun had finally risen, though he had no idea what time of day it was. He put his focus back on Jack, who's eyes were moving frantically under his lids. He was having a nightmare, that was for sure. Crutchie thought about waking him, but knew that Jack could use all the rest he could get. Instead, he settled for gently stroking the side of his face, brushing away the tangle of messy hair, whispering assurances in his ear.

It didn't seem to do much good. Jack's left hand was gripping tightly at Crutchie's shirt, an occasional whimper escaping him. Crutchie wrapped his arms tightly around Jack, pulling him closer, careful not to bump his injured right hand. "Shh, it's okay," he whispered, wanting to be soothing, but finding himself feeling very discouraged in that. Nothing seemed to work, and Crutchie almost considered giving up and just waking him, when an idea occurred to himself.

Softly, he began to sing the first song that popped into his head. "Come away, come away, death. And in sad cypress, let me be laid. Fly away, fly away, breath. I am slain, I am slain, by a fair cruel maid. My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, prepare it. My part of death, no one so true, did share it."

His voice carried throughout the room, the song enchantingly sweet, if not eerie in tone. He continued to hum, sensing Jack easing up beside him. Crutchie closed his eyes, searching his memories for the next verse, and continued to sing.

"Not a flower, not a flower, sweet. On my black coffin, let there be strown. Not a friend, not a friend, greet. My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown. A thousand, thousand, sighs to save. Lay me, O, where. Sad true lover, never find my grave, to weep there."

Jack stirred, his eyes rustling open. "What the hell was that?" he mumbled, his voice sounding groggy from sleep.

Crutchie's eyes flew open. "You'se awake?" he exclaimed.

Jack nodded. "What was you singing just now?" he asked, rubbing at his eyes with his good hand.

"It's, uh, a poem by Shakespeare," Crutchie explained. "From his play, Twelfth Night."

"It's depressing as hell," Jack stated. "But it sounded nice." He scooted closer to Crutchie, resting his head on his shoulder. "Could you keep singing?" he asked, his eyes practically begging.

Crutchie smiled. "I'll try to think of something less depressing," he said. Thinking about it for a moment, another song came to him, one that Crutchie hoped would fill Jack with happy memories.

"Seeing life from the top of the world," Crutchie sang. "Nothing needs fighting, and no one needs pity. Thanks for giving this moment to me, when just for a moment things stop. Here at the top of the world."

Jack grinned. "Hey, those aren't your lines," he said.

Crutchie laughed. "I had to sit through every rehearsal, I memorized all the songs in that show," he explained.

Jack hummed. "Sing some more?" he asked.

Crutchie thought about it, trying to think of another song. "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy, when skies are grey. You'll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away."

"Hey, that's not right," Jack complained. "You'se my sunshine, not the other way around."

"But every time I see you it's like the sun is coming out again," Crutchie explained.

"But that's how I feel about you," Jack argued.

Crutchie laughed. "Guess that means we'se in love, huh?"

Jack's face turned red. "You sap," he muttered.

Crutchie smiled, leaning over to kiss Jack's forehead. "You'se right, I am a sap," he said. "What are you gonna do about it?"

"If I weren't injured in the hospital I'd be tickling you so hard right now," Jack threatened.

Crutchie giggled. "Glad to know where we stand," he said.

They laid in silence, Jack reaching down to take Crutchie's hand and intertwining their fingers. He still had his head resting on Crutchie's shoulder, breathing softly beside him. For a moment, Crutchie had thought Jack had fallen back asleep, when he suddenly felt him stirring again, gripping his hand more tightly.

"Hey Crutchie?" Jack spoke up.

"Yeah?" Crutchie asked.

"You ain't mad at me, are you?" he asked, his voice sounding small.

"Course not, why would I be mad at you?" Crutchie questioned, turning his head to look down at him.

"Cause I winded up here, when I said I would be safe," Jack explained. "I got in that car when I probably shouldn't have, even though I promised you I wouldn't do nothing stupid."

Crutchie frowned. "If I'se mad at anyone it's Spot for driving," he explained. "None of this is your fault."

"I don't want to be mad at anyone," Jack confessed. "I just want to go home."

Crutchie felt his heart break a little inside. "You'll get to go home soon. Doctor said it should just be a day or two, right? That time will fly by and you'll be back home before you know it."

Jack sighed. "Maybe I'll just sleep the whole time," he mused.

"How's your head feeling?" Crutchie asked.

"Still hurts," Jack answered. "It feels like the minute I sit up I'll pass out or something."

"Well, you don't have to sit up anytime soon," Crutchie assured him. "Just keep resting, alright?"

Jack nodded. "Yes, mom," he said.

The rest time only lasted for a few minutes before a knock was heard at the door and a nurse came in, all smiles and offering them good mornings. Jack immediately tried to sit up but the nurse assured him that he could lay still, she just needed to come and get his vitals. She asked him a few standard questions, what was his name, what year it was, who was the current president, all of which Jack answered correctly (though begrudgingly on his name, having to use his given one). He asked how much longer he would have to stay, and the nurse answered that it was up to the doctor, and he would be by to see him soon. Though Jack felt that soon for doctors was a different type of soon than soon for him.

Only a few moments after the nurse left there was another knock on the door, and Jack and Crutchie both hoped that it was the doctor. Instead, in walked Davey, followed by Spot. Jack's face lit up, and he tried sitting up again, this time with no nurse to tell him no. He felt his head swim, but Crutchie was right there, helping to keep him oriented.

"You look like hell," Davey commented, taking a seat in the chair by his bed.

"You don't look too hot yourself," Jack said, noting the dark circles under Davey's eyes.

"Didn't sleep much last night," Davey admitted. "Or, this morning, rather."

"What time is it, anyways?" Jack asked, looking around for a clock.

"A little after eight in the morning," Davey answered. "We just got discharged."

"Lucky you," Jack said bitterly. "They'se gonna try and keep me another day or two I think."

"You probably need it," Davey told him. "You didn't wake up for quite a few hours. That can't be a good sign."

"I feel fine, now," Jack argued. "Just a little nauseous is all."

"That's not a good thing," Davey said. "You have a moderate TBI. You know that can be serious, right?"

Jack waved his hand. "I'se got a thick skull, I'se alright."

Davey sighed. "Just, listen to the doctor and do as he says, okay?" he asked. "You don't need to go getting yourself in more trouble just because you were stubborn."

Jack groaned. "You sound like my mom," he complained.

Davey's eyes softened. "Jack, you do remember that your mom's-"

"Yeah, I know," Jack snapped. "Geez, I didn't hit my head that hard. It was just an expression."

"Well, good to see you're doing well enough to be snappy," Davey commented.

Jack didn't respond to that, instead looking behind him towards Spot, who was standing idly by the door. "And, how are you?" he asked, noting the bandage on his forehead.

Spot gave him an exasperated look. "You'se asking me that?" he questioned, sounding curt.

"Is that a problem or something?" Jack asked, confused.

Spot sighed. "You'se the one with a brain injury, we should be asking you that," he told him stiffly.

"I already said, I'se fine," Jack answered. "And what about you? Looks to me like you got an injury, yourself."

"I'se fine," Spot answered shortly.

Jack looked down at Davey. "And you?" he asked.

Davey shrugged. "Just a concussion, nothing serious," he explained. "We got off easy."

Jack nodded. "Guess luck was on our side, huh?"

Davey nodded. "Though it could have been avoided in the first place," he muttered.

"Oh, come on, Davey; we both got in the car," Jack argued. "If anything, it's all of our faults."

Davey shook his head. "Don't do that," he said. "Don't try and shift the blame away from where it needs to be."

"Well, if you two hadn't been arguing, maybe we wouldn't have wrecked in the first place," Jack pointed out.

"I wouldn't have been arguing if Spot hadn't given me a reason to argue," Davey snapped.

"Maybe you two could learn a thing and not argue now?" Crutchie mumbled. "Since it ended so well last time."

Neither Jack nor Davey had a response for that, both immediately going quiet.

The room felt charged, as if there were still a million words to be spoken that no one was prepared to utter. Crutchie felt as if he were invading somehow, and almost got up to excuse himself when Spot soddenly spoke up.

"Jack," he said quietly, looking up to make eye contact with him.

Jack looked up, meeting his eyes. "Yeah, Spot?" he asked.

"I'se . . . so sorry," he said. "To both of you."

"Sorry doesn't fix it," Davey mumbled.

"What do you want me to do?" Spot demanded. "Tell me, and I'll do it."

Davey got up from his seat, marching over to Spot and getting in his face. "I want you to mean it," he said. "I want you to mean it more than you've meant anything in your life. I want you to not only apologize to us, but to Crutchie, and Race and Katherine, and my family, and anyone else who's lives you would have affected if any of us had died this morning. I want you to never drink again, or drive above the speed limit if you ever get your license back. I want you to understand what you've done and realize how wrong you were to try and get in that car to drive. I don't care that you weren't fully intoxicated; you knew your personal limits and you broke them. I want you to never forget that for as long as you live, do you understand me?"

Spot nodded. "I understand," he said quietly. "I screwed up. I thought I was okay, but I wasn't. I should have never risked your lives like that, or anyone else's, for that matter," he paused, looking square at Davey. "I know you expect better of me; I'se sorry for letting you down." He looked over at Jack. "I'se sorry for what happened, Jack. It should have been me who got the worst of it, not you, especially since it was supposed to be your night." He now looked at Crutchie. "And I'se sorry for giving you something to worry about. You didn't deserve that. None of you did. I'se just . . . I don't know what else to say. I'se sorry."

"It's okay, Spot," Jack said. "I'se not mad with you. Just, don't do it again, okay?"

Spot nodded. "Never," he agreed. He looked back at Davey, who was still staring him down hard. "Well?" he asked. "What else can I do to make it up to you? Please, just tell me. I'll do anything."

Davey didn't immediately answer, the gears turning in his head. Crutchie could have sworn he was going to set off on him again, but instead did the unexpected and pulled Spot into a hug.

"I'm just glad we aren't dead," Davey muttered, holding back angry tears that threatened to escape at any moment. "Don't you dare do anything so stupid again, you hear me?"

Spot just stood there, shocked. Awkwardly, he patted Davey on the back, not knowing what else to do and not entirely comfortable with being hugged so tightly. "Whatever you say," he said, his own voice feeling strained.

Crutchie smiled, glad to see that things could finally be looking up. It didn't mean there still wouldn't be struggles in the future, he could only imagine the amount of trouble Spot was going to be in as soon as he left the hospital, but knowing that they all still had each other's backs made facing that seem a lot less scary. He was sure Spot felt the same way.

Davey broke away, straightening up his shirt and trying to hide the small sniffle that escaped him. "Anyways," he said. "Chances are you're going to be fired, so just be prepared for that, okay?"

Spot nodded. "I figured as much," he admitted.

"Maybe you could put in a good word for him to the owner?" Jack offered. "He's our best guy at the shop; we can't lose him."

Davey shrugged. "I may be the manager, but my opinion only holds so much weight. I'll do what I can, but I make no promises. You just need to prepare for the worst. Besides, it's probably going to depend on what happens in court. For now, you'll most likely get fired, or at least suspended. Until you hear from a judge, though, your status for coming back could be up in the air."

Spot nodded. "I understand," he said.

Davey returned to his seat, Spot moving from his place by the door and taking a seat as well on the foot of Jack's bed. For a while, they all talked and joked like nothing had happened, forgetting for a brief moment the nightmare that had occurred only hours before. It was nice, and it gave Crutchie hope that over time everything would be alright again. They were going to be okay, even amidst all of this.

Before long, a nurse returned to the room, bringing Jack some breakfast. It was hard to get him to eat, Jack complaining that the very sight of food made him feel sick. Eventually, they got him to get down some yogurt and a banana, but shortly after Jack complained of feeling nauseous, and promptly had to be helped to the bathroom to empty the contents of his stomach. This worried all of them, and Davey decided to get up and find out when the doctor was going to be back to see him. They decided it was best for Jack to lay back down and try and get some more sleep, since he was still complaining of a headache. Jack complied without argument, settling into the bed and almost immediately falling back asleep.

Davey returned to the room, looking exasperated. "Nurses say it could be anywhere from now to another hour or two," he complained. "They sure do take their sweet time here."

"It's like this at every hospital," Crutchie explained. "It's usually because doctors have several other patients to see and work to sort through. He'll be here as soon as he can."

Davey sat back down in his chair. "I wish it were sooner," he grumbled.

"Hey, what happened to Race and Kath and your family, anyways?" Crutchie asked.

"Think they all went downstairs to get some breakfast," Davey answered. "Said they wanted to give us some time to talk to Jack, anyways. Thinking about it now, I should probably go find them," he added, getting back up from his seat.

"I'll go with you," Spot said, getting up as well.

Davey nodded. "We'll be back soon, okay?" he said. "Text us if anything happens."

Crutchie nodded. "Will do," he said.

Davey and Spot left the room, leaving Crutchie alone with Jack once again. He lied back down, resting his head on the pillow next to Jack's and watching as he slept. He seemed to sleep more peacefully now, his eyes perfectly still under their lids, and his breathing completely even. Crutchie smiled, though worry still filled him. He hoped Jack would recover soon and get to leave this place. It was bad enough he didn't have the use of his right hand for who knew how long, but to also have a brain injury was terrifying, to say the least. He hoped it wouldn't have any lasting effects, even though the doctor did warn them that it would be possible. But he supposed he shouldn't complain too much; Jack and the others were all alive, and that was the most important thing. Anything else they could work through, together.

It wasn't going to be easy, but it would be worth it.


	27. Chapter 27

The next days dragged on. Jack spent most of the time sleeping, occasionally getting up to eat and go to the bathroom. He finally managed to get some food down, which pleased the nurses, but it wasn't much. He still complained of feeling nauseous, and when the doctor finally came by he assured them that that was to be expected. It was decided that Jack would stay another night, just for observational purposes. He was undoubtedly disappointed by this, but made no arguments with the doctor, simply nodding his head in understanding. When early afternoon rolled around, everyone left the hospital, save for Crutchie who wanted to stay with Jack. He didn't want him to be alone in this place. There was no worst feeling than being alone in a hospital.

Katherine promised to return that night with some clothes for the both of them, and everyone said their goodbyes. Jack promptly went back to sleep, leaving Crutchie to sit there with him, watching over him as he rested.

A few times that day a nurse would come in to check Jack's vitals, often having to wake him up from his sleep. Jack would groggily try to sit up, and Crutchie would help hold him steady. He still seemed unbalanced, which made getting to the bathroom a nightmare. The doctor had said his disorientation would pass soon, that he should be back to normal by the next morning. Crutchie hoped so, because if he had a falling over Jack to deal with, he wasn't sure he'd be able to catch him.

Jack eventually woke up late afternoon, explaining that his head didn't hurt quite as much now, which Crutchie was relieved to hear. There wasn't much to do, so they decided to pass the time playing eye spy, not able to think of anything better. There wasn't much in the room to point out, but it kept them occupied for at least a few minutes. When the game had been exhausted, Jack settled for resting his head on Crutchie's shoulder and absentmindedly playing with his fingers.

"Dinner should be brought to you soon," Crutchie commented, resting his head on top of Jack's.

"Mm," Jack hummed. "Have you eaten?"

"Yeah, I went downstairs to the cafeteria while you was sleeping," Crutchie answered.

"How long was I out?" Jack asked.

"A few hours," Crutchie said. "You was practically dead."

Jack laughed. "I feel dead," he said, scooting closer to Crutchie.

"But your headache is better, right?" Crutchie asked.

"Yeah, but I still feel off somehow," Jack explained. "Kinda drugged up."

"That's the pain meds they have you on," Crutchie laughed. "You'se pretty coherent though, I'se surprised."

"I always got my wits about me," Jack said proudly. "No pain meds gonna knock me down any notches."

"Whatever you say, hot stuff," Crutchie said, turning his head to kiss Jack's forehead.

"Has Kath said when she's gonna come back?" Jack asked.

Crutchie pulled up his phone, checking his messages. "Last thing she said was she should be around sometime after dark. So, I'd give her another hour or two."

"Good, I wanna put on real clothes," Jack complained.

"What happened to the ones you was wearing when you came in?" Crutchie asked.

Jack shrugged. "Never gave 'em back to me. I'se starting to think this is a conspiracy to make patients feel uncomfortable by wearing the stupid hospital gowns the whole time."

"Yeah, sure, it's a conspiracy," Crutchie agreed patiently.

"Anyways," Jack said, sitting up. "I need to take a piss."

Crutchie immediately got up from the bed, quickly going to Jack's side and helping him get up. Getting to the bathroom was a cumbersome task, Jack still having the IV machine attached to him, and Crutchie having to get on his right side to help support him with his left. It wasn't quick going, but they got to the bathroom eventually. Crutchie waited with him until he finished, reminding him to wash his hands before helping him back to the bed. Jack seemed more stable than he was that morning, only leaning on Crutchie a fraction of what he had before. Crutchie figured it was probably the pain meds that kept him so disoriented, and would be glad when Jack could go off of them, or at least to a lower dose.

It wasn't long before Jack's dinner showed up, and shortly after that Katherine entered the room, carrying a bag of clothes for them.

Jack's eyes lit up when he saw her, and at first Crutchie thought it was because he was happy to see another friendly face, but in fact it was just because he so desperately wanted the clothes she brought. They ended up having to call in a nurse to take out the IV for a short time so that he could get changed, and when it was finally done and he was back into bed, Jack finally felt some semblance of being human again.

"So Jack," Katherine said, taking a seat at the foot of his bed. "Crutchie tells me you've been sleeping all day. Feeling any better?"

Jack nodded. "Still feel a little out of it, but I don't feel so much like shit anymore," he said. "Doctor says I'll be ready to go home in the morning."

"That's great to hear," Katherine said. "And don't worry about work. Come back in when you feel ready; we can hold off without you for a few days."

"Thanks," Jack said. "I'll be back as soon as possible, I swear."

"Don't rush yourself," Katherine warned. "Take your time to recover."

Jack nodded. "Understood."

The three of them talked for a while about nothing in particular, Katherine trying to keep the conversation topics light. Jack kept asking about Spot and Davey, and Katherine could only shrug her shoulders. She hadn't heard from them since leaving the hospital that morning, and could only assume they were still doing okay.

After a while, Katherine turned her attention to Crutchie. "Do you need a ride back to your dorm tonight?" she asked.

Jack looked at Crutchie. "You'se leaving tonight?" he asked, trying to hide the disappointment in his voice.

Crutchie shrugged. "I can stay if you want me to," he said.

"Don't you have classes in the morning?" Katherine asked.

"I can miss, it's okay," Crutchie said. He hoped it would be okay, at least. He had a test that he had been studying for all weekend, and really shouldn't miss it, but he couldn't leave Jack alone here . . .

"You sure?" Jack asked, sounding skeptical.

"Positive," Crutchie answered, giving him a reassuring smile.

A few minutes later, a nurse came in to check and make sure Jack had finished his dinner. "Still no family come by?" she asked politely.

Jack shook his head in answer.

"Your step dad never showed up?" Katherine asked, confused.

Jack shrugged. "Should he have?" he asked.

"Well, Davey called and left a message at your home early this morning," Katherine explained. "He should have gotten it by now."

Jack just shrugged again. "Haven't seen him."

"Would you like to call him again?" the nurse asked. "We have a phone you can use."

Jack shook his head. "That's alright," he said. "I'se getting out in the morning, anyways. There's no point."

Crutchie looked carefully at Jack, noting that something seemed wrong. He seemed . . . guarded, somehow. More than Crutchie would have expected, at least. He didn't point it out, though, deciding to just let it go.

Katherine stayed for a little while longer, promising before she left that she would be back in the morning to pick them up and take them home. They said their goodbyes, and Katherine left the room, leaving them to sit in quiet.

"Well," Jack said after a few moments of silence. "I'se gonna get some sleep."

"Feeling tired?" Crutchie asked.

Jack nodded, lying down. "Thanks for staying, by the way."

"No problem," Crutchie said, lying down as well. "Get some sleep, alright?"

Jack nodded, curling up close to Crutchie and drifting off into sleep.

Crutchie stayed awake for some time, not feeling the slightest bit tired yet. He occupied himself by looking at things on his phone, checking his grades and occasionally looking at social media. When it started getting late, he decided to get off his phone and try and get some sleep as well. Before long, he was drifting off, snuggled up close to Jack and feeling the barest hints of contentment. Jack was going to go home tomorrow, and everything would be okay.

That was, until four in the morning hit. Crutchie woke up, unsure of what it was that had woken him, and instinctively looked at his phone to check the time. He groaned, laying his phone back down and trying to settle back into bed.

That's when he heard it, the noise that had woken him. Turning to his right, he saw Jack had curled up and was facing away from him, his shoulders trembling ever so slightly and small sniffles escaping him.

"Jack?" Crutchie asked quietly, reaching over to tap his shoulder.

Jack jumped, whipping around to face Crutchie. His eyes were red and wet, and his lips were quivering.

"Jack," Crutchie gasped. "What's wrong? Is it your head? Your wrist? Do I need to call for a nurse?"

Jack shook his head, sniffling again. "Crutchie," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Am I a bad person?"

Crutchie stared back at him in surprise. "No, of course not," he said quickly. "Why would you think something like that?"

Jack shrugged. "He knew I was here but he didn't come by," he explained.

"Who?" Crutchie asked, not following in his half-asleep state.

"Snyder," Jack said. "He . . . he didn't even call."

Crutchie made a face. "So?" he asked. "He's a terrible person. Why would you want him to come visit you, anyways?"

"I don't know," Jack stammered. "He helped raise me, and is pretty much the closest thing to family I got."

Crutchie frowned. "He doesn't treat you like family, though," he said. "Family looks out for each other."

Jack nodded. "I know," he said. "But he was still part of my family. I just . . . I don't understand why he didn't act like it. What did I do wrong, Crutchie?"

"You didn't do nothing wrong," Crutchie assured him.

Tears welled in Jack's eyes. "Then why did he hurt me?" he asked, his voice cracking.

Crutchie felt his heart break; wordlessly, he pulled Jack into a hug, wrapping his arms tightly around him. He felt Jack cry into his shoulder, his whole body trembling now. Crutchie gently rubbed up and down his back, trying his best to be as soothing as possible. He didn't know what to say, or how to make things better. He just held him, and let Jack cry.

A few moments passed, and Crutchie decided he needed to say something, even if it wasn't much. Jack deserved some sort of an answer, however small.

"I don't know why he did those things," Crutchie admitted. "But it wasn't your fault. No one deserves to be hurt, no matter what they do, and if I even know you a little, I know that you wouldn't ever do anything do deserve that kind of treatment. He's a terrible person, and wrong for doing those things he did. But don't even for a moment blame yourself, you hear me, Jack?"

Jack nodded into his shoulder. "What if I made things worse by leaving?" he asked. "What if things'll never be fixed?"

"If you had stayed I promise you things would have only gotten worse," Crutchie told him. "You were right to leave."

"What am I supposed to do now?" Jack asked. "I can't afford a hospital bill, I can barely afford rent and food. And school bills will be coming up soon. I can't afford any of this on my own. If I went back at least I wouldn't be in debt."

"We'll figure it out," Crutchie promised him. "Whatever happens, you ain't going to go hungry. No matter what your financial situation, you'se far better on your own than with him."

Jack buried his head deeper into Crutchie's shoulder. "He was supposed to be my father," he mumbled. "But he didn't even love me. Why didn't he love me like he was supposed to?"

"I don't know," Crutchie admitted, holding him more tightly. "I wish I had an answer for you, but I don't. It ain't right, that's for sure. You deserved better. You deserved the world, but you got stuck with something lousy. And that ain't your fault, Jack. It's all on him."

"It ain't fair," Jack sniffled. "It just ain't fair."

"I know," Crutchie agreed. "I know."

They both grew quiet, the only sounds in the room coming from occasional beeps from the IV machine, and Jack's sniffling. Crutchie gently ran his fingers through Jack's hair, occasionally kissing the side of his head. Jack grew quiet, and for a moment Crutchie had thought he had fallen asleep. But then after a few moments Jack spoke up again.

"Crutchie?" he said softly.

"Hmm?" Crutchie hummed.

"You ain't going nowhere, right?" he asked, his voice sounding so small.

"Course not," Crutchie said. "And if I am, you'se coming with me."

Jack smiled. "We could run away, change our names and never look back. I hear Santa Fe's nice."

"It's hot there," Crutchie cautioned. "Think you could handle that?"

Jack nodded. "It would be a nice change from the stinking cold of New York."

"I'll go wherever you go," Crutchie told him. "Wherever you are, I'll be right there."

"Promise?" Jack asked.

"Promise," Crutchie said.

"Good," Jack said, snuggling closer to him. "Hey Crutchie?"

"Yeah?" Crutchie asked.

"I love you," Jack said, turning his face to look at him.

Crutchie smiled. "I love you too," he responded.

Jack grinned, laying his head back down on Crutchie's shoulder. Before long, Jack had finally drifted off back to sleep, sleeping through the rest of the night until morning came.

The doctor came to visit around ten that morning, giving Jack one last check-over and deeming him ready to be discharged. The discharge papers were a nightmare, and most of the information Jack didn't know how to fill out. Luckily, Katherine had showed up early that morning and was able to help. When they finally finished all the correct paperwork, the three headed out of the hospital and to Katherine's car, Jack still leaning on Crutchie for extra support.

Katherine drove them back to Race and Spot's apartment, going with them up the stairs and into the home. Spot was waiting for them inside, Race having gone to work. Jack insisted upon a hug when he saw him, and Spot begrudgingly didn't refuse him. It was obvious Katherine was still upset with him, barely speaking to Spot the whole time she was over. Crutchie had to admit, he wasn't surprised, but it did make him upset nonetheless. He hoped that one day soon everyone would be able to get along again, and this whole thing could become nothing more than some bad dream. But he knew that might be hoping for too much. After all, he couldn't deny that part of him still felt a twinge of disappointment towards Spot, and he doubted that would ever truly go away, no matter how much he wanted it.

Katherine insisted on driving Crutchie home, claiming that he at the very least needed to shower, let alone the fact that he was missing class. Crutchie was hesitant, but decided that Katherine was right. He said his goodbyes to Jack, promising to be over as soon as he got some sleep, talked to his professors about missing classes that day, and actually took care of his personal hygiene. Jack didn't want to see him go, but understood it was the best idea for him. Crutchie begrudgingly left the apartment with Katherine, heading down to her car so she could take him back to campus.

"Did any other visitors show up?" Katherine asked as they drove down the road.

"No," Crutchie answered. "Just you."

"I don't understand why his step dad never came by," Katherine mused, mostly to herself.

"Because he's an asshole," Crutchie muttered.

Katherine gasped. "You watch your language, young man," she said, completely serious.

Crutchie didn't respond, instead just looking out of his window idly.

Katherine sensed something was wrong. "What happened there?" she asked. "No one talks about it, but something's clearly wrong. Why is Jack having to live on his own now?"

Crutchie didn't immediately answer, not knowing what to say. He didn't feel it was his place to say anything, really. "Because Snyder's just a bad person," he eventually said.

"Did something happen?" Katherine asked, her voice sounding serious.

Crutchie thought about it for a minute and then nodded. "I can't really say, it ain't my place, but it wasn't good."

Katherine nodded in understanding. "Davey and I didn't know; he would have never called him if he thought something was really wrong," Katherine explained.

"I know," Crutchie said. "And I'se sure Jack knows too."

"Just answer me this," Katherine said. "Is he going to be okay?"

Crutchie thought about that for a moment before eventually nodding. "Yeah," he said. "I think he'll be okay."

Katherine smiled. "Good," she said. "That's all I needed to hear."

They drove the rest of the way in silence, both returning to their own thoughts. Crutchie hoped his intuition had been correct. He couldn't say for sure, but he had to believe Jack would be okay. And if he wasn't, Crutchie would be there for him until the day he was. No matter how long it took.

Jack was his family now, and nothing was going to change that.


	28. Chapter 28

Jack slept most of the day away, Spot letting him use his and Race's bed, since it would probably be more comfortable than his palette on the floor. Jack graciously accepted, sleeping until late afternoon. When he woke up, he went out to the living room to find Spot sitting on the couch and watching TV, Mini sitting in his lap. Jack plopped down next to him, immediately resting his head on Spot's shoulder.

"What are you doing?" Spot asked, staring at him quizzically.

"You'se comfy," Jack stated simply.

"If you'se looking for comfort go lay back down," Spot told him, trying to shrug Jack off.

Jack made a noise of discontentment. "But I'se lonely," he complained.

"So, what do you want me to do about it?" Spot asked.

"Play with my hair and tell me I'se pretty," Jack answered.

"I ain't Crutchie," Spot told him. "And you look like shit, anyways."

"Gee, thanks pal," Jack said, sitting up.

Spot didn't respond, instead staring blankly ahead at the TV as he absentmindedly petted Mini's head.

Jack made a face. "Is you mad at me?" he asked, frowning at Spot.

Spot looked at him, taken aback. "No, why you think that?" he asked.

"I don't know, you seem like you'se in a bad mood," Jack noted.

Spot shrugged. "I'se been in a bad mood since yesterday," he commented, looking away from Jack.

"You ain't still upset, are you?" Jack asked.

"I am, and I'se gonna continue to be upset for a while," Spot answered. "And you should too."

"I told you, I ain't mad at you; you don't need to be upset," Jack tried to assure him.

"That don't change what happened," Spot countered. "It don't matter if you'se upset or not. It still happened and I'se still got a shitload of consequences to deal with."

"But you ain't dead," Jack pointed out. "That's gotta count for something."

"Sometimes I don't know if being dead is really worse," Spot mumbled.

Jack opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by the sound of the door being unlocked, Race stepping inside a moment later.

"Jack, you'se back!" Race cried, running over to the couch and tackling Jack with a hug. Jack fell over into Spot, causing Mini to hiss and jump out of his lap.

"Hey, watch it!" Spot snapped. "You almost crushed Mini!"

"When did you get back?" Race asked. "How's your head? You ain't still seeing stars, right?"

"I'se fine, I'se fine," Jack assured him. "I got back this morning."

"How'se you feeling?" Race asked, finally getting off of him and sitting down properly on the couch.

Jack shrugged. "Still kinda tired, and my wrist has been starting to hurt, but it ain't so bad," he said. "I got prescribed some pretty intense pain meds that have been helping loads, but I think they'se making me sleepy or something."

"Yeah, pain meds will knock you right out," Race said. "Oh, and Spot, I got you a present."

Spot gave him a curious look. "What?" he asked.

Race picked up a plastic bag he had dropped on the floor by the couch. He pulled out a small metal cylinder and tossed it to Spot.

"It's a laser pointer," he explained. "For Mini. Cats love laser pointers."

Spot inspected the gadget, turning it over in his hands and clicking it on. A small red laser appeared on the wall across from him, immediately grabbing Mini's attention. Spot carefully moved the laser, switching from the wall to the floor and back to the wall again. Mini got up from where she had been sitting, looking curiously at the laser and occasionally reaching out a paw to try and tap it. But Spot moved the laser out of her reach, causing her to jump after it with frustration.

"She seems to like it," Race commented, smiling.

Spot hummed, flicking the laser around and watching as Mini darted around after it wildly. For a brief moment Jack thought he saw the smallest of smiles on Spot's face, but he figured he must be imagining it. Then Spot flicked the laser on the wall, sending Mini into a frenzy as she tried to jump after it, slamming into the wall and falling unceremoniously to the floor, quickly getting up and meowing in discontent.

That's when Spot lost it, a small, genuine laugh escaping him. It wasn't anything big, but coming from him it spoke volumes. He continued moving the laser around, a smile stretching across his face as the kitten darted back and forth after it, trying with all her might to catch the pesky laser. Race was beaming, clearly pleased to see that Spot was enjoying himself, having finally brought a smile to his face. Jack felt contented, leaning back on the couch and now resting his head on Race's shoulder, watching as Mini ran around the room and listening to the occasional laughter coming from Spot. All felt well again; or at least, like it could be well again. They were going to be okay, and nothing was ever going to change that.

Jack smiled, feeling drowsiness overtake him again, and before long the shadows returned, pulling him into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

"Davey, Davey!"

Davey shook his head, coming out of his trance. He had been standing at a table, meant to take a customer's order. The customers were staring up at him in confusion and worry, Katherine on his left, gently shaking his shoulder.

"S-sorry," he stammered. "What was that?"

The customer repeated their order, and Davey wrote it down on his notepad. Once he was done, Katherine gently guided him away from the table, pulling him into the kitchen.

"You completely zoned out there," Katherine noted. "Good thing I was coming through and noticed or you might have started drooling. Are you okay?"

"Fine," Davey said. "I just have a little bit of a headache."

"Maybe you should take a break?" Katherine suggested. "You've been working all day."

"I'm fine," Davey assured her. "It's just a headache."

A loud crash sounded behind them, causing Davey to jump nearly out of his skin. It sounded like several pans had fallen onto the floor, resounding throughout the kitchen in loud, metallic echoes.

"Sorry!" Finch called. "Dropped something."

Katherine looked back to Davey, who was massaging his head with his hands. "You need a break," Katherine ordered. "Come on, let's go to the office."

Before Davey could protest, Katherine was grabbing him by the sleeve and pulling him into the back hallway, leading him into their office. She had Davey sit down at his desk, taking her own seat across from him.

"I'm telling you, I'm fine," Davey said, rubbing his temple. "It's just been a long day."

"Which is why you need a break," Katherine told him. "You got a concussion, after all. Don't push yourself too hard."

"It was a minor concussion," Davey assured her. "It hardly counts."

"So? You went through a traumatic event and didn't even take off a day from work," Katherine pointed out. "Don't you think you're pushing yourself too hard?"

"No?" Davey said. "If Spot and Jack could be here they would, so since I can I should come in."

"You're not indestructible, Davey, you need to take care of yourself sometimes, too," Katherine said.

"I do take care of myself," Davey argued. "I brush my teeth at least twice a day."

"You know what I mean," Katherine said.

"Look, just five minutes, but after that I gotta get back to work," Davey told her. "We're short one waiter and neither Buttons nor Henry could come in on such short notice. I'm needed serving tables."

"It won't do anyone any good if you suddenly fall over from exhaustion or something," Katherine pointed out.

"I'm not even tired," Davey argued.

"Davey, you literally look dead," Katherine stated. "I think you should really go home and call it a day."

"If Jack and Spot were here they wouldn't be calling it quits," Davey muttered.

"If either of them were here they would be immediately sent home on account of inability to work due to injury," Katherine said. "Why are you comparing yourself to them?"

"I'm not," Davey said. "I'm just saying if it were one of them in my place you wouldn't be sending them home."

Katherine stared at him. "Are you saying you don't think I have any faith in you?" she asked. "Davey, you're my partner. I'd put more trust in you than any of our other employees."

"Then why are you telling me to go home when I am insisting I'm fine?" Davey questioned.

"Because you've just been in an accident and I'm worried about you," Katherine said. "You shouldn't have come in today at all."

"I need to work," Davey said. "I need to keep my mind occupied."

"Why?" Katherine asked.

"Because if I don't . . . I don't know, I'm afraid of what I might start thinking about."

Katherine scrutinized him. "Like what?" she asked carefully.

"What happened the past couple days, what's going to happen in the future," Davey started. "We all could have died, Kath. Spot's life could be ruined. Who knows how Jack's going to recover. It's just a lot to take in."

"I know," Katherine said. "But avoiding the topic isn't going to make things better. You're going to have to face it, eventually. Better to do it now and get it over with then have it creep up on you years down the road."

Davey nodded. "Yeah, I guess you're right," he said quietly.

Katherine smiled. "Go home, Davey. Get some rest. Sort out your thoughts. We can handle it here."

"Thanks, Kath," Davey said, getting up from his seat. "You're the best, you know that?"

Katherine beamed. "Oh, I do."

Davey left the room, and for a moment Katherine felt as if the situation had been solved. But there was something uncertain in Davey's eyes, something that still didn't seem fixed. She tried not to think about it, but it nagged at her for the rest of the night.

Davey would be alright. He always was.

* * *

Jack woke up, feeling startled and disoriented. He looked around the dark room, unsure of where he was. When had it become night? And when had he ended up on the floor, blanket over him and pillow under his head?

He didn't have time to think about it too hard. The noise that had awoken him sounded again, the buzz of his phone ringing next to him. Groaning, Jack picked up the phone, looking at the caller ID. Davey? Jack didn't hesitate, answering the phone immediately.

"Hello?" Jack asked, his voice sounding groggy.

"Jack?" came Davey's voice on the other side of the receiver. He sounded . . . distressed?

"Dave, what time is it?" Jack asked, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

"Almost three," Davey answered. "What are you doing awake?"

"You woke me up calling me," Jack stated. "What are you doing up at this time?"

"Couldn't sleep," Davey admitted. "I tried but . . . every time I close my eyes I keep seeing it. I keep hearing Spot screaming, trying to wake you up. It's messed up, Jack. It's all just messed up."

"I know," Jack said. "It sucks. You wanna talk about it?"

Jack heard Davey sigh heavily. "I should be sleeping; I need to go into work tomorrow."

"Talk to me, Davey," Jack said. "You ain't sounding so hot."

"I'm fine," Davey said, his voice cracking slightly.

"Really, cause you sure don't sound fine," Jack said. "And obviously you called me for a reason, so what's up?"

There was a pause, and Jack started to wonder if Davey had hung up, when he finally spoke up again. "I have . . . a lot going on in my head and I don't know what to do about it."

"Like what?" Jack asked, curious.

"The accident, you and Spot, work," Davey listed. "I shouldn't be stressing over it as much as I am." He sighed. "Man, it's 3:00am, what am I doing calling you?"

"Because you felt you needed to talk," Jack said. "So, talk. What about it has you stressing?"

"The boss is talking about firing Spot," Davey said. "I expected that, but I don't want him to lose his job. I know I need to try and talk to the boss about it, but I'm not sure I can change his mind. I know Spot probably deserves this, but I do want to give the guy a second chance. It was his first time screwing up like this, after all."

"Right," Jack agreed. "And it would be hard enough for him to find a new job after all this."

"And part of me feels responsible for what happened too," Davey continued. "Maybe if I hadn't distracted him in the car we wouldn't have wrecked. He wasn't fully intoxicated, after all. Maybe he really was fine and I caused all this."

"Davey, that ain't fair to yourself," Jack told him. "It was an accident, okay? Nothing more."

"We ran a red light, that's on us," Davey told him.

"Okay, well then it's on us," Jack said. "But none of us suffered any serious injuries, save for a few different concussions and a broken wrist. We got off pretty good."

"Jack, you have a TBI," Davey told him. "You know how serious that could be? You may not see the effects now, but they could show up later."

"Then I'll deal with them later," Jack said. "Is that really what's got you worried?"

"You weren't awake in the car, Jack," Davey told him. "We . . . we thought you were dead. Your face was bleeding, you weren't responding. I honestly thought I had lost you."

Jack was quiet for a moment. "I'se right here," he said. "I'se not dead."

"But what if you had?" Davey asked. "What if that car had hit us just a little bit harder? What if Crutchie hadn't reminded you to wear your seatbelt for once? There are too many what ifs here."

"But none of that stuff happened," Jack said. "Why is you worrying about it if it didn't happen?"

"Because that's what I do," Davey said. "I worry about things that could happen, or had the potential to happen. I can't help it, I just do. I don't know what's wrong with me, or how to stop. I just . . . I don't know what to do."

"Are you sure I'se the right person for you to be telling this to?" Jack asked.

"You're my best friend, I don't know who else to go to," Davey admitted.

"I thought Katherine was your best friend," Jack said.

"You're both my best friend," Davey said. "And Katherine wasn't there."

"Davey, I'll be straight with you," Jack started. "My head is still killing me, my pain meds got me feeling loopy, I don't know if I can give you the answers you'se wanting."

"I just . . . I need to know that you're going to be okay," Davey said.

"You know me, I'se always okay," Jack assured him. "But I'se more worried about you."

"I'm fine," Davey said.

"Come on, Dave, don't lie to me like that," Jack said. "If something's bothering you, you can tell me."

"I don't know if I can," Davey admitted, his voice growing quiet.

"You already woke me up, don't let it be for nothing," Jack told him. "What's eating you?"

Davey was silent for a moment. "I'm scared, Jack," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I thought . . . I thought I was going to lose you. And in that moment, I didn't know how I was going to be able to move on, if I could at all. I shouldn't be feeling this way. Hell, I shouldn't even be calling you. But I kept imagining a world without you and . . . I couldn't do it."

"Hey, it's okay," Jack said. "That ain't gonna happen no time soon."

"I keep thinking it would have been better if it were me," Davey said. "I'm scared for you, I'm scared this injury will end up being worse than it initially seems."

"Hey, the doctor said it was gonna be okay," Jack assured him. "I know you'se worried, but you'se got nothing to be worried about. I'se alright. And so is Spot. And so is you."

Davey took a breath. "And then," he started, pausing again, as if he were afraid to say his next words. "I started having this thought. That what if I did die? That what if . . . what if it would be better?"

Jack was quiet for a moment. "You know," he started, slowly. "Spot said something like that earlier, too."

"He did?" Davey asked.

"Yeah," Jack said. "I think it's just a weird feeling in the aftermath. It should pass with time."

"But, what if I had been having this thought before the accident?" Davey asked. "What does that mean?"

Jack sighed. "Man, I don't know," he admitted. "What do you mean by that?"

"It's not as bad as it sounds," Davey explained. "But, maybe life isn't as great as people try to make it out to be?"

"Davey, that's pretty heavy stuff you'se talking about there," Jack told him.

"I don't mean it like that," Davey said quickly. "Just that, I don't think I'm content with my life, and I think this accident made me realize that."

"So, then change it," Jack said. "What about it are you not content with?"

"Everything?" Davey admitted. "And part of me thought, maybe if I hadn't have broken up with you things would be better? I'd be happier?"

"Davey," Jack started. "You aren't saying-"

"I'm not still in love with you," Davey interrupted. "At least, I don't think so? Maybe? I don't know. I thought I wasn't, but I'm not so sure anymore. I know I was happier then, but I don't know if it was you or just the fact that I felt something then, or that I had something to feel at least."

"Davey," Jack said. "This is a lot to hear at three in the morning high on pain meds."

"I know, I shouldn't have called you," Davey said. "I'll just go."

"No, Davey wait," Jack said quickly. "Stay on the line. Talk it out. Help me understand what you'se feeling."

"I don't know what I'm feeling," Davey explained. "My head has been a scrambled mess and I feel like I have no control over my thoughts anymore. I'm so dissatisfied with everything, even though I shouldn't be. I have a good job, a place to live, a loving family, I have everything I need and yet I feel so lost. What's wrong with me?"

"Dave, I think you'se tired," Jack said. "You'se always working yourself to the bone, and you had just been in a traumatic event. Of course, your mind's gonna be a tangled mess right now."

"What about you? Is your mind a tangled mess? Are you freaking out too?" Davey challenged.

"I spent all of last night crying my eyes out cause my abusive father didn't love me," Jack said. "And those thoughts about life sucking and not feeling worth living? I get those too. A lot."

Davey was quiet on the other end of the line.

"You ain't alone, you know," Jack said. "We'se all messed up and confused. And my head is really pounding, I can't give the greatest advice right now, but there ain't nothing wrong with feeling out of control sometimes. It, I don't know, builds character or some shit."

"You're not mad because of what I said?" Davey asked.

"Dave, whatever you'se feeling is up to you," Jack told him. "I can't hold that against you."

Davey was quiet again, Jack waiting patiently for him to respond.

He heard Davey sigh heavily. "I'm not okay, Jack," he admitted. "I don't know how to feel okay."

"That's alright," Jack said. "As long as you can admit it."

"What can I do?" Davey asked. "How do you deal with it?"

Jack almost laughed. "I don't, I ignore it," he admitted. "But that ain't good advice so let me try again. Figure out what it is that's making you not feel okay. If you can identify it, you can start to fight it."

"What if I don't like what I find out?" Davey asked.

"Well, you'se gonna have to live with that," Jack told him. "You'se smart, Davey. Real smart. I know you'll be able to figure this out."

The line was silent for a long time, Jack again thinking that he had hung up. Then, Davey spoke up.

"Sorry for calling you about all this," he said. "I'll let you get some sleep."

"Hey, you gonna be alright?" Jack asked.

"Yeah, I'll be alright," Davey said, and Jack wasn't entirely sure he believed him.

"If you say so," Jack said. "Just, don't be a stranger. Call me if you ever need me, okay?"

"Okay," Davey said. "Goodnight, Jack."

"Goodnight, Dave," Jack said, and hung up the phone.

Jack didn't sleep a wink the rest of the night, and he was certain Davey didn't either. Things weren't as fine as he had hoped, and Jack didn't know where to begin to fix them.

They were still a mess, after all.


	29. Chapter 29

The morning was still; pale light coming in through the open blinds and the faint sounds of traffic down below. Davey lied awake in his bed, staring up blankly at the ceiling. He hadn't slept the night before, not after his phone call with Jack. His brain simply wouldn't shut down. He looked over at his clock; eight-thirty in the morning. He wasn't scheduled to come in until ten, which meant it was time for him to get up now. However, the prospect of leaving his bed sounded terrible, and it wasn't just due to the migraine he felt coming on. Groaning, he sat up in his bed and steadily got to his feet, making his way to the bathroom to shower.

He ran cold water, hoping the chill would help clear his head; it usually did. But today, all it served was to make him shiver, only provoking his headache. He turned off the water, getting out of the shower and grabbing a towel to wrap around himself. He stood in front of the bathroom mirror, picking up his toothbrush to brush his teeth. The face staring back at him looked dead, the purple shadows under his eyes all too noticeable. Davey sighed; there was nothing he could about it now. He finished getting ready and headed to the kitchen to grab some semblance of breakfast.

It was so quiet, save for the ticking of his clock; Davey stood in the middle of his kitchen, staring blankly at the cupboards in front of him. Nothing sounded particularly appetizing, so he settled for making toast. By the time he finished it was a little after nine; he was going to be early. Taking a couple of Aspirins, he grabbed his keys and headed out the door.

He arrived at the shop half an hour early, going straight to the office to drop off his stuff. Katherine was sitting at her desk, looking up when he entered the room.

"You look like hell," Katherine noted, typing away on her computer.

Davey nodded. "I feel like hell,' he responded.

"You sure you should be in today?" Katherine asked, eyeing him with concern.

"I'm fine," Davey said, taking a seat at his desk. "Who's working today?"

"Race, Albert, and Elmer are working in the shop this morning, but Specs is coming in tonight to take over Elmer's shift," Katherine explained. "Tommy Boy and Finch are in the kitchen, and Blink, Buttons, and Henry are in the eatery. Mush and Romeo are coming in tonight for the rush."

Davey nodded. "Heard anything else from the boss?"

Katherine sighed. "I tried talking to him, but he says he wants to hear your opinion on the situation, since you were there. If you want I'm sure you could convince him to just give Spot a temporary suspension. He trusts your judgement."

Davey hummed. "I should try talking to him today, then," he said.

"Did you get any sleep last night?" Katherine asked. "You seem sluggish."

"I'm fine," Davey repeated. "Just a headache."

Katherine gave him a concerned look, but said nothing more, instead going back to her work on her computer. Davey got up from his desk to clock in, returning a moment later and picking up the phone. He needed to call the boss and try and sort this out. He didn't want to, but it needed to be done.

The phone call lasted all too long, Davey beginning to feel overwhelmed with the amount of questions the boss asked him. He wanted to know every detail of what happened, everything Spot did that night, and if Davey were honest with himself, having to relive the events was far more stressful than he wanted to admit. But he got through it, making a final plea to spare Spot's job. The boss said he would consider it, and promptly hung up the phone.

Davey put the phone back on the dock, slumping in his chair.

"You sure you're okay?" Katherine asked.

Davey sat there for a moment, making no response. Eventually, he shook his head slowly. "I'm not," he admitted. "I'm just tired."

"If you need another day off I can work something out," Katherine said. "Say something about you still needing time to recover."

"It's been a few days, I should be fine by now," Davey told her, getting up. "I'm going to see how things are going in the kitchen; make sure Finch is breaking anything else today."

"Take a break if you ever need to," Katherine called after him. Davey just simply nodded, exiting the room.

He spent most of the day overseeing things in the kitchen, giving a helping hand when needed and occasionally going out to wait on tables when one of the others took their lunch break. It was a slow day, so stress was low, but it didn't mean Davey still wasn't fighting off a migraine. When the appropriate time had passed he took a couple more Aspirins, hoping it would help ease the throbbing in his head.

He went back to the office around five, finishing up some paperwork and clocking out half an hour later. He said his goodbyes to Katherine and headed out to his car, driving out onto the busy streets of New York.

The sun was setting, and shown brightly in his face on his drive to the store. As if he needed more stimulation to urge on his headache. When he got to the store, he idly browsed the aisles, picking up a package of pasta and some sauce, already having vegetables waiting for him in his freezer. It would be a simple dinner tonight, Davey not feeling up to making anything extravagant. When he got home, he immediately set to cooking the pasta, cutting up broccoli while he waited on the noodles to cook.

It was still so quiet, the only sound from within the apartment to be heard was the ticking of the clock on the wall in his living room. Each second seemed to pass more slowly than the next, and Davey found himself waiting in anticipation for each new tick. Surely seconds couldn't really be this long?

The pasta finished boiling, and Davey drained out the water, returning the pasta to the pot and adding the sauce and broccoli. It was a decent meal, and he made enough to have leftovers for tomorrow. Though, it would have been nice to have some bread with it; perhaps he would pick up a loaf on his way home tomorrow?

The silence continued, broken up agonizingly slowly by the faint tick-tock of the wall clock. Davey found himself counting the seconds in between each tick; how had he never noticed there were so many seconds between seconds? One, two, three, five, eight, it went on and on, the numbers growing ever higher. His food was getting cold, forgotten in a bowl in front of him as his fork was held suspended in air. There was no time to eat, only count as the seconds grew longer, multiplying before his very eyes.

Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick . . .

Tick, tick, tick, tick . . .

Tick, tick . . .

Davey's head shot up, a sudden buzz breaking him out of his trance. His phone, someone had sent a message. He looked down at it, opening the lock screen and pulling open the message.

[One New Message]

[Jack K: Hey, just wanted to check up on you. Get any sleep?]

Davey stared at his phone blankly for a moment before responding.

[Davey J: Yeah, you?]

[Jack K: Yeah, loads.]

[Davey J: That's good, glad to hear it.]

[Jack K: Well, call if you need anything, alright?]

[Davey J: Will do. Have a good night.]

[Jack K: You too.]

Davey set his phone on the table, sighing. He completely lied, but he was certain Jack was lying too. No way had either of them gotten sleep the night before, and Davey expected the same to be true for tonight, at least for himself. He was tired, but he didn't feel the exhaustion that normally accompanied that feeling. He would probably end up lying awake again, counting the minutes that passed until it was time for him to be awake again. It was a mundane way to spend the night, but it was better than watching TV, he supposed. At least he wasn't killing brain cells, right?

Looking down, he remembered the food sitting in front of him, and continued to eat. It tasted flavorless and bland, even with the broccoli. He supposed he just forgot to add salt, and made a mental note to start keeping the salt shaker by the stove from now on. Only a few minutes passed before his phone buzzed again, this time signaling a call coming in.

He picked up the phone and saw that it was a FaceTime request from Les. Davey groaned; he still couldn't believe his parents had gotten Les an iPhone. Hell, he wasn't allowed to get his first phone until he was at least fifteen. Benefits of being the youngest, he supposed. Not waiting a moment longer, he answered the call.

"Hiya Davey!" Les said excitedly, his face far too close to the screen.

"Hey, Les," Davey said in return, a small smile coming over his face.

"Whatcha doing?" Les asked. "And why's your screen all dark?"

Davey looked around, only just realizing he hadn't turned on the lights. "Oh, forgot the lights were off," he said, getting up to turn them on.

"Is your brain working right?" Les asked. "Sarah said you hit your head really hard and it hurt your brain."

"It's working fine," Davey reassured him. "Just running a bit more slowly than usual."

"Does that mean you're not as smart as you used to be?" Les asked. "Cause mom says I'm getting really smart and could beat you someday."

"Oh, did she?" Davey asked. "Well, guess I'll have to step up my game to keep that from happening."

"Don't hit your brain anymore, then," Les told him. "It's bad for brain cells and stuff."

"I don't plan on it," Davey assured him.

"How's Jack doing?" Les asked. "Sarah said he hit his brain even harder."

"He's fine," Davey said. "But he won't be back at work for a few days."

Les gaped. "He hit his brain that hard?"

"Well, that and he injured his hand, so it's kind of hard for him to make drinks when his wrist is in a cast," Davey explained. "But Katherine will have him run the register when he comes back."

"He could probably make drinks one handed," Les said. "He's cool like that."

"Even cool people have their limits," Davey told him.

Les shook his head. "Not Jack," he said. "He's invincible. But you're pretty cool too, so I guess so are you."

Davey smiled. "Thank you, I think?"

"Mom and Dad are still mad at Spot, though," Les said. "They say they don't want him working with you."

Davey frowned. "Well, that really isn't up to them," he said.

"I know, and they know, but they still said it," Les explained. "They think he's dangerous or something."

"He's not dangerous, just an idiot," Davey said. "It's a thin line, but there is a difference."

"So, you're not still mad at him?" Les asked.

"Of course, I'm still mad at him," Davey explained. "But I understand that it was an accident and he feels sorry for what happened."

"Mom says sorry doesn't fix it," Les said.

"She's right, but it's a good starting point,' Davey said.

"I'm glad none of you are dead," Les said.

Davey was silent for a moment. "Yeah," he eventually responded. "Me too."

"Are you gonna come by home anytime soon?" Les asked. "Mom's really been wanting to cook you dinner."

"I'll see if I can stop by this weekend," Davey promised.

"You better," Les said. "We don't see you much and we all miss you, even though you don't live that far away."

"I miss you guys too," Davey said.

"Oh, right, Sarah wanted to say hi," Les remembered. "Sarah! Davey's on the phone!"

A few moments later Sarah showed up in the background of Les's screen. "You look awful," Sarah noted, coming forward to get a better look.

"Gee, thanks," Davey said.

"Have you been sleeping?" Sarah asked, concerned.

"Yeah, loads," Davey lied. Sarah didn't seem to buy it.

"Sarah, tell Davey he has to come and visit soon," Les said.

"You have to come and visit soon," Sarah complied. "I mean it."

"I'll try for this weekend," Davey said. "I should probably go, I need to finish dinner."

Sarah nodded. "Are you sure you're alright?" she asked. "You look upset."

"I'm fine," Davey assured her. "Just tired."

"Call us if you need anything," Sarah told him. "Seriously, we aren't that far away."

"I'll keep that in mind," Davey said. "I'll talk to you two later."

"Bye!" Les said, waving. "We miss you!"

"Get plenty of rest," Sarah added. "And don't work yourself too hard this week."

"I know," Davey said. "See you guys soon."

He ended the call, placing his phone back on the table. The room was silent once again.

Sarah had said he looked . . . upset? That couldn't be right. He felt fine. Everything was fine. The clock continued to tick, seconds lengthening into minutes, his fork once again suspended in the air, never coming into contact with his food.

Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick . . .

Slowly, his shoulders began to tremble. It extended into his arms, wrists, and hands. The fork fell to the table with a loud clank, breaking up the silence of the room.

"What's wrong with me?" Davey mumbled, feeling his face grow hot as tears sprung in his eyes. He tried so hard to hold them back, but now that they were here they began to fall unapologetically, rolling down his face and dripping onto the table.

He could feel his whole body begin to shake, and the tears just kept coming. What was wrong with him? Why was he so upset? He hadn't cried like this in so long, he couldn't even remember the last time he cried at all. Was it stress? Had it all suddenly come crashing down on him after everything that had happened? If so, why now? Why a few days after the accident and not then?

The clock on the wall continued to tick, and Davey got up from his seat, marching to the living room and pulling the clock off the wall. He ripped out the batteries, throwing them and the clock to the floor, listening with satisfaction as it shattered. The apartment was finally silent.

Davey stared down at the mess, his moment of glee only lasting for a brief second before the anxiety set back in. He had destroyed his clock. And it was now a big mess on the floor that he would have to clean up. Slowly, Davey bent down, attempting to pick up the pieces, but finding that his hands were still shaking far too much to complete the task. Instead, he sat down on the floor, pulling his legs up to his chest and burying his face in his knees.

He had told everyone that day that he was fine, but he wasn't. He was anything but fine, and he didn't know what to do about it. He had no one he could talk to, no way to express how he felt. He couldn't talk to Katherine; she would tell him to just suck it up or sleep it off. He certainly couldn't talk to Jack; he had enough to worry about for himself. And he wasn't about to talk to Sarah. No, there was no one. He was painfully, truly alone.

Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes turned into an hour. His food was cold, and the clock still remained in pieces on the floor. Davey didn't move, couldn't bring himself to even lift his head. He didn't want to do anything, didn't want to sleep, or eat, or go to work the next day. He had promised Jack and Sarah he'd call if something were wrong, but he simply couldn't. Not when he didn't really know what was wrong in the first place. All he knew was that he felt empty, and that scared him. It frightened him so much it felt like he would never be whole again. How had he let it get to this point? He had been so preoccupied with work and life that he hadn't taken the time to think about himself. He hadn't been able to notice how much he had stopped feeling, until something drastic happened and caused him to suddenly feel everything at once. He couldn't take it.

His crying finally subsided, leaving him feeling drained and exhausted. He needed to sleep, needed some sort of an escape. He would give anything to stop feeling this way, to just feel normal again. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't felt normal in a long time. Did he even remember what that felt like? When was the last time he felt well, like everything was okay? He couldn't remember.

Shakily, Davey stood to his feet, returning to the kitchen to put his uneaten food in the fridge, and going back to the living room to clean up the remains of his clock. Once all had been completed, he retired to his room, climbing into bed and pulling the covers up over his face. It was too early to sleep, but he couldn't do anything else. He thought one more time about calling someone, about how nice it must feel to talk to someone and get his feelings off his chest, but his phone remained untouched on his bedside table. He was better off alone, anyways.

Time ticked on, and the tears returned. He thought he had gotten them all out, but he was wrong. He held his arms tightly around himself, as if he were going to fall apart any moment. He was a mess. A hopeless, inexcusable mess, who had completely lost control. He would call Katherine in the morning, make up some excuse, anything to keep himself from going into work the next day. He just couldn't be around people, not now.

His phone buzzed, causing Davey to jump. He looked over, picking up his phone and checking the caller ID. It was Jack. Davey didn't answer, simply watching the screen as the phone continued to ring, until it eventually stopped. He opened his phone and waited, a notification eventually popping up to show that he had gotten a new voicemail. He opened the message, holding the phone to his ear to listen.

"Hey, Dave, I know we just talked like a couple hours ago, but I figured I'd call you again. My head is killing me, and you should hear how Spot complains about Race changing the bandage on his forehead. It's nuts. Hopefully your head doesn't hurt as bad as mine, cause this is a nightmare. Anyways, I need to call Katherine and work it out but I think I'se gonna try and come in to work not tomorrow but maybe the next day? I'se getting bored sitting around the apartment and just sleeping all day. Anyways, call me back if you need anything. And make sure you'se like drinking water and shit. See you soon."

Davey closed up the phone, setting it back down on his dresser. He couldn't understand why Jack had bothered to call. He told him he was okay, he wasn't even hardly injured. Why was Jack checking in on him so much? It only served to make him feel worse. Davey pulled the covers over his head once again, feeling the tears begin to stream down his face. He didn't want to think about Jack, or work, or life, or anything. He just wanted to sleep. He closed his eyes, and hoped that he would fall quickly into a slumber, and maybe if he were lucky, he wouldn't have to wake up.

The apartment was silent, and everything inside slowly fell apart.


	30. Chapter 30

Davey stared blankly at the empty cabinets before him. He could have sworn he at least had cereal, but evidentially had run out without himself realizing it. There was a single jar of peanut butter, but no bread. Davey sighed. It would be the saddest breakfast in the world, today, it looked like. He grabbed the jar and a spoon, sitting down at the table where he had set his phone. It began to buzz, and for a moment Davey wondered if Katherine were calling him back to let him know he needed to come into work, after all. Groaning, he picked up the phone, looking at the caller ID. It was Jack? How many times was he going to check in on him? Almost deciding to ignore it, Davey eventually answered the phone.

"Hello?" he asked, his voice still sounding groggy with sleep.

"Oh, good, you answered," Jack said, his voice sounding far too chipper for eight in the morning. "Are you going into work today?"

"Called in sick," Davey explained simply.

"Great, then you can come over," Jack exclaimed.

"Didn't you hear me, I said I'm sick," Davey repeated, wondering if maybe he should fake a cough to complete the effect.

"Which is exactly why you should come over for some pancakes," Jack said. "Spot agreed to make a mountain load of them, and the two of us can't eat them all on our own."

"Why are you calling me?" Davey asked. "Can't you find someone else to help curb your bad decisions?"

"Because, you'se my best friend and you ain't working or in school," Jack said. "Now get ya ass over here and come have some pancakes. They'll be ready in twenty minutes."

"I'm not coming over," Davey told him.

"Great, see you in ten," Jack said, and without another word, hung up the phone.

"Jack-" Davey started to say, but the line was already dead. He groaned, running his fingers through his hair. The last thing he wanted was to leave his apartment, especially to see Jack and Spot. No, he wanted to do nothing more than stay in with his lousy jar of peanut butter and try to sleep the day away. Maybe he would go out later to buy a new clock, but that was it. He felt bad enough as it was, he didn't need to add stress to his day by driving and seeing people. He wasn't going; he was staying right there.

"Dammit," Davey muttered, getting to his feet and going to his bedroom to put on fresh clothes. Within a few minutes, he was grabbing his keys and heading out of the apartment.

The drive wasn't far, and before he knew it Davey was pulling up in front of Spot and Jack's apartment. He got out of the car, taking the two flights of steps up to their door, banging on the knocker. A few moments later Jack answered the door, a broad smile spread across his face.

"Good, you actually came," Jack said.

"You didn't leave me much choice," Davey pointed out, stepping into the apartment.

"I didn't think you would actually listen," Jack noted. "Anyways, Spot's making the pancakes now. Grab your plate."

Davey got a plate out of the cupboard, exchanging a brief good morning with Spot, who was focused on the pancakes cooking on the stove. Davey inspected the batter, noting that there was far more than was necessary, and his stomach already felt full just at the thought of how many pancakes he was going to be forced to eat.

"You never called me back," Jack pointed out, taking a seat at the table.

"Yeah, I went to bed early and forgot," Davey lied, sitting as well. "Been kinda out of it the past few days."

"I feel you there," Jack said. "Haven't been able to think straight all week."

"You never think straight," Spot commented, not looking up from his work.

"You know what I mean," Jack said. "I talked to Katherine this morning. She still thinks it's too early for me to consider coming in, but I'se gotta get out of the house. I'se gonna lose it if I don't."

"Katherine's smart, if she says to not come in you should listen to her," Davey told him. "If you aren't thinking straight, you certainly can't work."

"I'se gonna go broke if I don't go back to work soon," Jack pointed out. "I can barely pay rent as it is."

"Race and I both have a good deal saved up, don't worry about rent," Spot said, taking a plate of pancakes and setting them on the table.

"I don't need you guys to cover for me, we'se been over this," Jack told him.

"Just take the damn help, Kelly," Spot ordered. "You can pay us back, later."

"It's gonna get worse when the medical bills come in," Jack said. "Hospital stays ain't cheap, and I'se pretty sure Snyder took me off of his insurance. I'se screwed."

"Take it one day at a time," Spot said. "We ain't gonna let you go hungry."

"Speaking of hungry, I'm starved," Davey said, picking up a few pancakes with his fork and setting them on his plate. Jack followed suit, taking four and covering them in syrup. Davey couldn't help but notice as Jack struggled to use his left hand, clearly not used to it. It took him a while to cut up his pancakes, but he made no complaints all the while.

They ate in silence, Spot adding more pancakes to the table after a moment. He eventually joined them when they were all cooked, grabbing the syrup and practically drowning his pancakes in it. Davey stared in disgust, but made no comment, preferring to eat his own pancakes plain, considering they didn't have fruit to top with it.

"So, how's work been?" Jack asked, his mouth full.

"Fine,' Davey answered simply. "Busy, like usual."

"Why ain't you in today?" Spot asked, taking a bite of his pancakes.

"Called in sick," Davey explained.

"You don't look sick," Jack noted, getting up from the table to fix himself a glass of juice. He offered some to the others, who both accepted graciously. Balancing the cups in his arms, he brought them back to the table, managing to not spill anything.

"I've just been feeling under the weather lately,' Davey said, taking a sip of his juice.

"Head still bothering you?" Spot asked.

Davey shook his head. "It's calmed down today," he explained.

"What do you think's got you feeling bad, then?" Jack asked, giving him a concerned look. Davey avoided his eyes, too afraid to meet them. Jack knew something was up, he could see right through him. It's all because of that stupid phone call me made the other night. Why did he have to tell him so much?

Davey shrugged. "Stress, I guess," he suggested.

"Stress will do that to ya," Spot said.

The room grew silent again, the only sound of forks clanking against plates to be heard. Davey sighed, setting down his fork and looking up at the two of them, tiredness clearly displayed on his face.

"Why am I here?" he asked. "Seriously, why are we sitting around having breakfast like everything is okay?"

Jack frowned. "I don't know," he said. "I thought we could all use the pick-me-up."

"I'm fine, I don't need a pick-me-up," Davey argued.

"Davey, you ain't fine," Jack said. "None of us are fine. We ain't really talking about it, but I don't think any of us are okay."

"Speak for yourself," Davey said. "I've been fine."

"So, what? That phone call the other night was you talking in your sleep?" Jack asked.

"Jack," Davey said lowly. "Don't bring that up."

"I'se worried about you," Jack said. "Both of you. You scared me the other night, Dave, and Spot, you won't talk about it at all. I just want things to go back to normal."

"Maybe they won't go back to normal," Davey said. "Maybe we'll just never live this down and things won't ever be repaired. That's life, Jack. You gotta learn to move on."

"That's bullshit," Jack said. "Spot, tell him that's bullshit."

"I don't know, Kelly," Spot said. "Maybe Jacobs is right."

Jack looked like he had just been betrayed. "Do neither of you want things to get better?" he asked.

"How, Jack?" Davey questioned. "How do you expect to make things better? I've got the boss breathing down my next about the whole event, and I'm busting my ass to keep Spot from losing his job; it's not gonna magically just fix itself."

"Maybe if we just talked about it?" Jack suggested. "Instead of trying to pretend it didn't happen."

"Oh, you wanna talk about it?" Davey asked. "Like, all the other times you've ever talked to me about what's going on with you? You just want me to open up and talk about it like you've never hidden things from me before? Cause that's not fair, Jack."

"Fine, you want me to come clean, then I'll start," Jack said. "I said I wasn't angry with either of you, but I am. I'se pissed, in fact. Not because it happened, but because as soon as it did the two of you were at each other's throats. You'se supposed to be a team, you'se supposed to be friends. But Davey, you'se still mad at Spot, I can tell. You'se telling me to move on, but you ain't moving on neither. And then that phone call the other night? What the hell was I supposed to think of that? I thought something was wrong, seriously wrong. But now you ain't talking so I can't be sure."

Jack took a breath, redirecting his attention across the table. "And Spot, you ain't hardly said a word about nothing. I know you'se still mad at yourself, but you gotta get over it. You ain't yourself when you'se so busy sulking around all day. It ain't fair to you, it ain't fair to Race, it ain't fair to nobody."

Jack looked down at his half-eaten pancakes. "And I'se tired. My head won't stop hurting, I can't do nothing with my hands. I'se got no way to pay off the debt I'se gonna be in. It sucks, alright? It sucks, but the worst part is I feel like I can't talk to either of you about it, and I sure as hell ain't going to Crutchie or Race and worrying them. I'se just tired."

The room grew silent, the only sound to be heard was the ticking of a clock. Davey's eyes twitched, noticing the sound immediately. Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick . . .

"I'se tired too," Spot agreed, his voice drowning out the ticking. "And I'se disappointed in myself. That's not gonna change, Jack. I'se gonna continue to be disappointed in myself for a long time, and you can't fix that. And Davey, I sure as hell don't deserve you going out of your way to try and save my job. I'se older, I should be more mature, I should be the one looking out for all of you, but instead I got you hurt and I ain't ever gonna let that go."

Jack frowned, but didn't say anything. Suddenly, Davey felt both sets of eyes on him, the silence returning and the faint ticking sounding off in the other room. How many seconds were between seconds again? One, two, three, five, eight . . .

Davey stood from his seat, nearly knocking his chair over in the process. "I need to go home," he said.

"You haven't even finished your breakfast," Jack countered, getting up as well.

"Give it to the cat, I don't care," Davey suggested. "I have a lot to do today and I need to go home."

"I thought you was taking the day off cause you was sick?" Spot pointed out.

"I still have things to do," Davey lied. "Lots of things."

"You'se just trying to avoid us," Jack said, crossing his arms. "Come on Davey, talk to us."

"There's nothing to talk about, I'm fine," Davey argued.

"Then why are you rushing out of here like you'se afraid of something?" Jack demanded.

"I'm not rushing out and I'm not afraid of anything," Davey countered.

"That's not what you said the other night," Jack told him.

"It was three in the morning and I was delusional!" Davey snapped. "Drop it!"

"No, not until you tell me what's going on," Jack said.

"Nothing's going on!" Davey cried. "I'm fine!"

"Then explain to me what the hell you meant the other night when you was saying some really messed up things," Jack demanded. "I tried to not worry about it but I can't. You scared me, Davey. Why the hell would you bring that stuff up?"

"Because I'm depressed!" Davey shouted. And in that moment, realization seemed to finally hit him. "Oh god, I'm depressed."

Jack grew quiet, having not prepared a response for that. Davey slumped back in his chair, dropping his head into his hands. Silence returned to the room, no one prepared to be the first to speak.

"Well," Spot eventually said, his voice quiet. "There it is."

"Maybe . . ." Davey started, not looking up at them. "I'm not fine."

"Davey," Jack said. "I'se sorry, I was just worried about you."

Davey looked up, his face clearly showing all the tiredness he felt over the past few days. "I can't function like this," he admitted. "I don't know what to do."

"Talk to someone," Spot said. "Not us, or Katherine; someone else."

"Like who?" Davey asked.

Spot shrugged. "Someone who's trained to help with that sort of thing," he said.

"You think I need therapy?" Davey mocked.

"There ain't nothing wrong with therapy," Spot told him. "Plenty of people use it."

"I don't have time for something like that," Davey argued.

"You make time," Spot said. "Just like you'd make time to see a doctor if you, say, got a concussion. It's the same deal."

"It doesn't make sense," Davey said. "I have no reason to feel this way."

"Then it's probably a chemical imbalance in your brain," Spot told him. "It's got nothing to do with your life. It just happens to some people."

"Listen to him, Davey," Jack said. "We'se tryna help."

Davey rubbed his hands over his face, sighing deeply. "I should go home," he said.

"At least finish your breakfast, first," Jack suggested. "You'll feel better with a full stomach."

Davey poked his fork at the pancakes, having felt like he lost his appetite. So, that was his problem all along, huh? He was depressed. The realization gave him a sense of relief, but it only lasted for a moment. Because even though he understood what was wrong, it didn't change the fact that something was, indeed, wrong. He thought about Spot's suggestion, and felt almost sick at the idea. Is this what his life had come to? What would Katherine think if she knew? What would Sarah and Les think, or his parents? Les looked up to him so much, what would he do when he found out his older brother was a failure?

Davey set down his fork again, having not even eaten another bite. "I'm not hungry," he said, pushing the plate away.

Jack shrugged. "Suit yourself," he said, getting up and taking Davey's plate. Davey immediately got up, taking the plate from Jack and assuring him that he could handle it. Only in the action of taking it away, his fingers fumbled and the plate crashed to the floor, shattering into dozens of pieces.

"Shit," Davey muttered. "Shit, shit, shit."

Spot got up, going over to inspect the mess. "Don't worry about it, I'll clean it up," he said.

"I keep breaking things," Davey grumbled with dismay. "You know, I broke my clock last night. I threw it against the floor and shattered it."

"Why'd you go and do something like that?" Spot asked, crouching down and picking up the bits and pieces of glass.

"I don't know," Davey admitted. "I have absolutely no clue."

"Just as long as it's just clocks you'se breaking," Jack said. "They can be replaced."

"Which I should be doing now," Davey said. "I've stayed too long. I really need to go."

"You sure you gonna be okay?" Jack asked. "You don't have to deal with this alone."

"I'm-" Davey started to say, but stopped himself. "I appreciate it, but I need to sort things out on my own."

"Talk to someone," Spot said, picking up the last remains of glass and throwing them in the trash can. "I mean it, Jacobs. Help yourself for once."

Davey frowned. "Katherine said something like that the other day," he noted.

"Yeah, she's real smart," Jack told him. "Maybe try and listen to her."

Davey sighed. He felt drained, like all of his exhaustion over the past few days was finally catching up with him. "I'll try," he said.

"Hold up one sec," Spot said, exiting the kitchen and going into his room. They heard him rummaging around for a few moments before he reentered the kitchen, handing Davey what looked like a business card. "Call them," he instructed.

Davey looked at the business card suspiciously, not liking what he was seeing. "Is this yours?" he asked.

"Race's," Spot corrected. "It looks like a load of shit but it ain't. So, call them."

Davey made a face, but put the card in his pocket. "I should go," he said, turning and grabbing his keys from off the table.

"Next time you feel like breaking a clock, just call me, alright?" Jack asked, following him to the door.

"I'll consider it," Davey promised.

He exited the apartment with a final goodbye, making his way to his car and taking the short drive home. Part of him was glad to have gotten that off his chest, but he didn't necessarily feel better. Maybe he wouldn't ever truly feel better, but it was comforting to know he wasn't necessarily alone in that, that even though situations were different, Spot and Jack were dealing with their own problems too. He remembered that card in his pocket, and Spot's firm instructions to him.

Maybe, just maybe, he would give them a call later.


	31. Chapter 31

**-deep breath- Guess who's BAAAAAAAAACK. It's been, what? Seven months? Or more? Here's a funny story for you guys. You know how I just finished an arc about some of the boys getting in a car wreck? Well, you know what happened to me? I got in a car wreck! Talk about weird foreshadowing. I'm okay, though. Broke and fractured some bones, couldn't walk properly for, well, much too long, and a nice handful of trauma later and I'm finally mostly healed. Like Jack, I took the worst of it, which means everyone else was a-okay so that's something to be grateful for. That's part of the reason I had to stop writing. Another part is, well, school was a nightmare this semester, resulting in me dropping out and applying to a new -hopefully much better- school for the fall. And then summer in general has been unreasonably busy, between working a show and traveling, oh so much traveling. Also, as much fun as I had writing this fic and my other oneshots at the time, writing a good 100k+ words in a months time completely burned me out. Badly. I've come to realize that there is something... wrong with my brain and how I go from 110mph to nothing at all. Working on that. But here I am, posting a chapter, and hopefully posting more. So, uh, enjoy!**

It wasn't until the next week that Jack was able to convince Katherine to let him back to work. He insisted days before that he was fine and ready, his wrist only a dull pain thanks to the pain meds, and his head all but cleared. Still, Katherine insisted he waited until the weekend passed before he returned to the shop, and Jack had no other choice but to agree.

The future of Spot's job was still up in the air, but at least by this point he had a court date, which was a move in the right direction. Stress was high in the apartment due to this, but none of them could disagree that at least things were moving forward, however scary that forward motion seemed.

Crutchie had barely been able to be around, due to finals being just around the corner. He had whined to Jack over the phone about this, saying he would much rather be with him than in his dorm studying, but Jack assured him that he was fine and that right now his studies were more important. Besides, things were still tense at the apartment, and it was better to not have too many guests over after the day Davey came by. Jack still thought about that encounter, not sure what to make of it. He had no other choice but to hope that Davey would take care of the situation himself, and trust in his judgment.

Jack hadn't lied to Katherine, he was feeling loads better from the week before, but he still didn't feel at one hundred percent. However, he couldn't wait any longer. Rent was coming up soon, and he needed to get back to work in order to make his payment on time. Despite Race and Spot's assurances that they could cover him if he didn't make it, Jack didn't like the thought of asking for a handout, even if he was going to pay them back in the future. So, going back to work was the only logical explanation, no matter how he felt physically or mentally.

The work day had been going fine, Race and Elmer both working that day as well, and Davey occasionally stopping by the coffee shop side to discuss new pastry ideas.

"I'm thinking of tea themed pastries," Davey explained emphatically to Katherine, who was standing behind the counter washing a blender.

"Tea themed pastries?" Katherine questioned. "And who's gonna make those?"

"I am," Davey assured her. "And I'll rope in Tommy Boy and Finch to help as well. I've been trying out baking over the past few days and it's been going surprisingly well. I think tea themed pastries could be a real hit."

"What do you have in mind?" Race asked. "And don't you dare say matcha scones."

"Matcha scones is exactly what I have in mind!" Davey exclaimed. "As well as maybe Earl Grey cupcakes, chai muffins, chamomile bread!"

"That sounds disgusting," Jack pointed out.

"It's artisanal," Davey argued.

"More like ar-tea-sanal," Katherine joked, stifling a laugh and doing finger guns. Everyone simply stared blankly at her, and Katherine slowly lowered her hands.

"Anyways," Davey said. "I really do think it could be a hit. What are your opinions?"

"I think you should do whatever your little heart desires," Jack said. "Just don't ask me to taste test."

"I think you'se gone loopy, but whatever makes you happy," Race shrugged.

"I'll take note of that and see if we can gather together ingredients," Katherine stated, pulling a notepad out of her back pocket and jotting down a few lines.

"I gotta get back to the eatery, but I'll keep you posted on this," Davey said. "We'd sell them in here, but who knows, if they're a big enough hit maybe we could add them to the eatery menu."

"Don't get your hopes up," Race told him. "I don't think nothing can replace those mocha cheesecake brownies the customers is crazy over."

"You never know," Davey pointed out. "People's alliances can be finicky."

"Get back to work before you start getting deep on us," Jack complained, swatting a hand in Davey's direction.

"I'll see you guys later," Davey said, turning and heading back to the eatery.

"He seems to be doing better," Katherine noted, watching as Davey left.

Jack nodded. "He's sorted through some things, I think," he said.

"He's been going at one hundred and ten percent, though," Katherine said. "I just hope he doesn't burn himself out."

"He'll be alright," Jack assured her. "He's Davey, after all."

"Hey, is anyone here actually working or what?" Elmer asked, working on several drink orders at once.

The three quieted up and got back to work, alleviating Elmer of a few of his drink orders.

It was getting past five in the afternoon, and the afternoon rush was beginning to pick up. Jack was stationed on register, advised to stay there due to his hand, but would occasionally help on an order if Race and Elmer became overwhelmed amidst the rush.

Race was just finishing up an order and handing it to the appropriate customer when he heard the sharp sound of a hand slamming down on the counter by the register. Looking up quickly, he noticed a very cross-looking customer glaring at Jack, her wallet gripped tightly in her hand and her eyes pointing daggers at Race's coworker.

"Four seventy-five for a cup of coffee?" she was exclaiming, flabbergasted.

"Well, it's a large, miss," Jack tried to explain calmly. "And you added two extra shots of espresso along with three extra pumps of vanilla."

"I'm being cheated, that's what's going on here," the woman continued to argue. "You know, Black Mesa Brewery down the street charges three dollars for a large cup of coffee!"

"The have different policies than we do here, miss," Jack continued. "If you like, I can offer you a discount of fifteen percent on your next order, and if the coffee here doesn't live up to your standards I can have another drink made for you, on the house."

Race groaned. This was the last thing they needed in a rush, a grouchy customer and a flustered Jack on register.

"That's the best you can do?" the woman asked. "Fine, but see if I come here again. And I'll be sure to let others know you overcharge for your coffee."

"I'll get your order in, miss," Jack muttered, writing down her order on a cup and handing it over to Elmer.

When the drink was handed to the customer, she took one sip and immediately thrust it back into Elmer's hands. "This is disgusting; I'm not taking liquid shit for four seventy-five."

"We can make you something else if you like?" Elmer suggested, trying to be diplomatic.

"Just get me another coffee, dark roast this time, and one pump of hazelnut," the woman exasperated. "And make it hotter this time. This is practically mild, what you handed me."

"Sure thing, miss," Elmer said. "Jack, give me a hand and make me a large dark roast with one pump of hazelnut, would ya?"

"On it," Jack said, leaving the register and getting to work on the order. Once the coffee was made he handed it over to the customer with what he hoped was a sincere smile, though it felt far too forced to look genuine, he imagined.

The woman took one sip and gagged. "You call this coffee?" she demanded. "This tastes like literal shit. Did you even put hazelnut in it?"

Jack blinked. "Hazelnut?" he asked. Had she ordered that?

"Yes, hazelnut, I specifically asked for one pump of hazelnut," the customer barked.

Jack internally groaned, rubbing his head with the back of his hand. "I'm sorry, miss, must've missed that," he apologized.

"What kind of barista are you that you can't even get a simple order correct?" the customer questioned.

Jack wanted to retort that it had been a long day, and that if he were honest with himself he had a migraine coming on, but that wouldn't be appropriate to explain to a customer, so he simply responded with "I'm sorry for the mistake, miss. Would you prefer one of our teas, instead?"

"What, so you can screw that up too?" the woman asked. "Where is your manager?"

"In the back, working," Jack retorted, perhaps a bit too quickly.

The customer narrowed her eyes. "Are you being smart with me, now?" she questioned, glaring at him.

"Not at all, miss," Jack responded quickly.

"Frigid bitch," Race muttered, passing behind him.

"Excuse me?" the woman asked, raising her voice.

"I didn't say anything," Jack stammered, raising his hands in surrender and turning to quickly glare at Race.

"You think I'm a frigid bitch? I'll show you frigid bitch!" the woman snapped, pulling the lid off of her coffee and promptly tossing the steaming liquid in Jack's direction.

Race reacted first, jumping back and letting out a startled scream. Elmer immediately set down the drink he was working on and ran to the back of the shop in search of Katherine. Jack, however, simply stood there, too shocked to fully register what had just happened.

The shock only lasted for a few moments before the burning set in, causing him to stumble back a bit, Race immediately at his side to help steady him.

"What the hell is your problem?!" Race demanded, glaring at the customer. The rest of the coffee shop had gone silent from the altercation, the sound of Race's voice cutting through the room like ice.

"I-I" the woman stuttered, looking shocked at what she had just done. It was barely a moment before Katherine was storming out from the back of the shop, Elmer following dutifully behind her.

"What is going on out here?" she questioned, looking between the customer and Jack, who was still frozen in shock.

"Race, take him to the bathroom, and get Davey," Katherine ordered, turning her attention back to the customer, who was shuffling her feet uncomfortably and muttering about poor service being the problem.

Race didn't stick around to hear what Katherine had to say to the woman, and was quite frankly afraid to know. Instead, he carefully ushered Jack back to the bathroom, the shock finally seeming to ebb away as his shoulders began to shake.

"You good?" Race asked, guiding him into the bathroom.

"Burns," Jack mumbled, scrubbing at his eyes.

"Hey, don't do that," Race instructed, pulling his hands away. "I'se gonna go get Davey; you sit tight, and don't go rubbing your eyes, got it?"

Jack nodded stiffly, but didn't comply. Race groaned and quickly left the bathroom, rushing to the eatery in search of Davey. When they returned they found Jack sitting on the floor, still furiously rubbing at his eyes.

Davey knelt down beside him, placing a first-aid kit at his side. "Stop rubbing your eyes," Davey instructed, pulling Jack's hands away to get a good look at his face. "You're red but it's probably nothing worse than a minor burn. Hold still."

Davey reached up and wet a rag with cool water from the sink, kneeling back down and instructing Jack to hold it against his face where it hurt.

"What about his eyes?" Race questioned.

"You seeing normally, Jack?" Davey asked.

"There's a towel in my face," Jack muttered, his voice muffled by the rag.

"I meant before that," Davey explained.

Jack nodded.

"What on earth happened, anyways?" Davey asked, looking back up at Race.

"Some lousy customer was giving us a hard time," Race explained. "Kept complaining that her drink tasted like shit and claiming that Jack got her order wrong or something. Then next thing I know she's going berserk and throwing coffee at him."

"Yeah, cause you called her a frigid bitch and she thought it was me," Jack grumbled, voice still muffled by the rag.

"You did what?" Davey asked, looking sternly at Race.

"Well it ain't a lie," Race argued. "She had it coming."

"You can't go around insulting customers, Race, that's how you get fired," Davey snapped.

"I didn't think she could hear me," Race exclaimed.

"Well, she did, and now look where we are," Davey told him. "Keep a cool rag on your face until the burning subsides, then put some of this lotion on where it hurts." He handed Jack a bottle of aloe.

Katherine appeared in the open doorway, her face flushed with irritation. "Race, get out here, now."

"What'd I do?" Race asked, defensive.

"Oh, you know what you did. And you're going to apologize for it," Katherine told him, eyes burning dangerously.

"You want me to apologize to her?" Race asked, incredulous. "We shouldn't be apologizing, we should be calling the cops."

"Oh, Elmer is already taking care of that," Katherine assured him. "But you still instigated it and you're going to apologize for it."

"Tell her that she ought to apologize too," Race argued.

"We'll worry about that when the cops get here, now come on," Katherine snapped, stepping out of the doorway and heading back into the shop.

Race groaned, but followed behind her, shoulders slumped in defeat. The bathroom went quiet, Davey gently taking the rag from Jack and re-cooling it under the sink.

"A nice welcome back to work, huh?" Davey asked, trying to lighten the mood.

Jack huffed. "Sure, I love getting hot coffee in my eyes," he grumbled.

"It could be worse?" Davey offered.

"How? How could it be worse than coffee literally in the eyes?" Jack asked, removing the rag to look at Davey.

Davey shrugged. "Just trying to look on the bright side of things," he said.

"You'se awfully chipper today," Jack noted, returning the rag to his face.

"I have things to get done," Davey answered simply. "I don't have time to mope around anymore."

"And how's that working for you? Jack asked.

Davey shrugged. "I'm still here, aren't I?"

Jack nodded in understanding. He knew what Davey meant, all too well.

They sat in silence for a moment longer before Davey pulled himself back to his feet. "I gotta get back to work," he said. "Go sit in the office if you need to until your face stops burning; you and Katherine can discuss today's schedule later."

Jack nodded in agreement, getting to his feet as well and making his way to the office. Hopefully the rest of his shift would pass uneventfully; he couldn't take any more excitement today.

* * *

"She did what?!"

"Coffee. All over my face," Jack explained through the receiver, laying down on his palette on the floor.

"You guys called the cops on her, right?" Crutchie asked, concern filling his voice.

"Katherine took care of it," Jack assured him. "The lady claimed her hand slipped, but you know that's bullshit."

"I can't believe Katherine made Race apologize to her," Crutchie said, and Jack could practically hear him shaking his head.

"That's how public service works," Jack sighed. "The customer's always gotta be right."

"Well, that ain't fair," Crutchie argued.

"No, it ain't, but we can't risk losing no more business if this lady decided to throw a fit," Jack stated.

"The shop ain't doing too bad though, right?" Crutchie asked.

"Well, we'se currently number three out of the local coffee shops in this part of town," Jack explained. "Black Mesa Brewery's got us beat out of customer service and Aperture Café supposedly has superior coffee and pastries. Locals saying we'se had the cops show up one too many times lately, anyways. The boss don't like that and has been getting on Katherine and Davey about it lately, says we gotta step up our game."

"You'se still better than Starbucks," Crutchie pointed out.

"Yeah, but if we can't keep up with the other local shops in the area we'se gonna be in trouble," Jack told him. "Cuts is gonna be made and people's gonna start losing their jobs. None of us can afford that, Crutchie."

"I'se sure Davey's got some brilliant plan up his sleeve to stop that from happening," Crutchie assured him.

"I'se been worried about Davey lately," Jack said. "He seems to be doing better than last week, but I'se worried he's gonna burn himself out if he keeps going at this pace. It's like a switch, one day he was down in the dumps and the next he was running full speed ahead. That don't seem healthy to me."

"What are you gonna do about it?" Crutchie asked.

"I don't know," Jack said. "Only thing I really can do is hope he knows what he's doing. And be there for him when he does crash."

"Just remember to take care of yourself too," Crutchie reminded him. "How's your head been?"

"Headache's mostly gone from earlier," Jack explained. "But something weird happened today, Crutchie. That lady, she gave me her order, I heard it and everything, but I got it wrong. I forgot part of it. That ain't like me. It just completely slipped my mind in the two minutes it took me to make her drink. It might be nothing but it's got me worried."

Crutchie was silent for a moment. "Maybe bring it up when you go in for a checkup?"

Jack blinked. "What checkup?"

"You know," Crutchie said. "When you go back to the doctor to make sure you'se healing all properly and shit."

"I ain't going back," Jack stated. "I can't afford that."

"But how'se you gonna know your wrist is healing like it should? Or that your head ain't turning to mush?"

"They'll heal on their own just fine," Jack said. "One hospital bill is enough."

"And the ambulance bill," Crutchie reminded him.

"They bill you for the ambulance too?!" Jack asked, sitting up.

"Shit," Crutchie muttered. "Yeah, they do."

"Crutchie, I can't pay that," Jack exclaimed. "What the hell am I gonna do?"

"It'll be fine, we'll work something out," Crutchie assured him. "Usually, you can pay just a little at a time, like a payment plan or something. As long as you'se paying a little each month they shouldn't go after you or nothing. You don't have to pay it all at once."

"But how much each month?" Jack questioned. "And how many months is that gonna be? I don't got spare change just lying around. It's not like I asked them to bring me to the hospital; it's a trap or something. They takes you in when you'se unconscious, against your will, and drop a huge bill on you that you didn't agree to pay. It ain't fair."

"I know," Crutchie agreed. "But that's just how things work."

"Well, it shouldn't be," Jack argued. "We shouldn't have to pay money to make sure we ain't gonna die or nothing. That shit should be free."

"You'se preaching to the choir, Jack," Crutchie told him. "Try not to stress on it. You'se had a long day, you need to rest."

Jack sighed, lying back down on the floor. "How's things with you?" he asked.

"Can't complain," Crutchie said. "Finals is almost over, and then I'll be home free for a few months."

"Hey, where is you staying this summer, anyways?" Jack asked. "You'se got what? A week before you move out of the dorm?"

Crutchie was silent for a moment. "Yeah, about that," he started.

"You ain't staying in some dirty hotel, right?" Jack asked.

"No, no I gotta place," Crutchie assured him.

"That's great!" Jack exclaimed. "With who?"

"Well, I wanted to tell you in person," Crutchie stated, his voice sounding uncertain.

"Why? You can tell me now," Jack said. "You ain't moving across the country to stay with some long-lost family members, right?"

Crutchie was silent.

"Crutchie, right?" Jack insisted, not liking his lack of answer.

"Not exactly," Crutchie assured him. "But, my granddad called the other day. Says he wants me staying with him in the summer, out in the country."

It was Jack's turn to be silent. "I thought you said he don't want much to do with you?" he said after a moment.

"Guess he had a change of heart, I don't know," Crutchie mused. "But I, I took the offer. I said I would."

"So, you ain't gonna be around this summer?" Jack asked.

"It's only a few months," Crutchie said quickly. "And I can always take a train into the city when I want to come visit. I'll hopefully be working this summer to raise up some money, but on days off I can come up and visit."

"Well, that ain't too bad," Jack said, trying to sound positive. "Working will be good, and being with your granddad should be nice too, right?"

"Yeah, we haven't seen each other since last summer, and then only for a brief while. He's got this really big house out in the fields, with animals and everything."

"Sounds nice," Jack said, pulling up a smile. "I'm happy for you, Crutchie."

"I'll miss you, though," Crutchie said quietly. "Like, a lot."

"I'll miss you too," Jack said. "But we'll see plenty of each other when school starts back up," he added hopefully.

"Of course," Crutchie said. "And we'se still on for seeing each other this weekend, right?"

"Of course," Jack agreed. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."

Crutchie was silent, and Jack could almost picture the grin that he was sure was playing on his face.

"I better let you get that rest we was talking about," Crutchie said after a moment.

"Yeah, and you'se still got more studying to do," Jack agreed.

"Talk to you tomorrow?" Crutchie asked.

"Talk to you tomorrow," Jack said.

"I love you," Crutchie added.

"I love you too," Jack said.

The line went silent, and Jack clicked out of the call. A whole summer without seeing Crutchie; the thought was almost unbearable. They hadn't even known each other a year, and yet it felt like an eternity. Jack tried to push the thought away; he would just have to busy himself this summer to make the time pass quickly. It would be okay; Crutchie was going to be with family, and Jack –despite his disappointment— couldn't be happier for him.

Just a few months, he could hold out a few months.


	32. Chapter 32

**Twice in one day, ya think it's fate?**

[One New Voicemail]

[Crutchie M] "Heya Jack, just got to my granddad's house. It's way bigger than anything I'se used to and it kinda smells like horse shit out here, but I think it's gonna be nice all the same. There's field after field of just open land, and he's got goats and chickens on the property. Says I can help out around the place to earn some money, and maybe even ask the neighbors if they need a hired hand to help around their property too. I think this is gonna be a great summer, I can already feel it. I'se gonna miss you, though. A lot. I bet you'se at work or something, so I won't be on the line long, but I just wanted to let you know I got here safely. It's weird being out of the city for a change, but it'll be a new adventure. Not quite your Santa Fe, but hey I bet I can at least see the stars at night if I look. Anyways, call me when you get the chance, I love you."

Jack couldn't help but smile as he listened to the message. It was late, too late for him to feel good about calling Crutchie back, so he would wait until the morning. It was barely a day and Jack already missed him terribly. They had gone plenty of days without seeing each other, but simply knowing that he wasn't a bus ride away made it that much more difficult to bear. But it would be fine. Summer would be over before he knew it, and Crutchie would be back in the city, visiting the shop every chance he got.

Only a few months. Jack could do this.

* * *

"Hey Crutchie, it's Jack," Jack said into the receiver. "Musta called at a bad time. I got your message last night; I'm glad you made it there safely. I'se working most of this week and don't know how much time I'll have to talk on the phone, but if you need me and I don't answer leave me a message and I promise I'll get back as quickly as I can. You gotta tell me all about how it is living out of the city for a while. And I expect loads of pictures, too, so I know it's real. I miss you already, and I'll talk to you as soon as I can. Love you."

Jack hung up the phone, grabbing his bag and heading out of the apartment. He had a long shift at work today and was already tired just thinking about it. But he needed the hours, and something to occupy his mind, so work he would.

He practically counted the minutes until he would hear back from Crutchie.

* * *

[One New Voicemail]

[Crutchie M] "Hey Jack, it's me. These past few weeks have really been something. Working for the Delancey family's been real nice. Apparently they'se got a couple of kids around our age, but I haven't met them yet. Mr. Delancey says they work for their uncle in the city but is gonna be back a couple of weeks real soon. I'se pretty excited to meet them; it'll be nice to see some faces that's around my age. Not that being around old folks is boring, but, well, it's a little boring. How are you? Working hard? I know I'se missed the last few calls from you. I'm sorry, things has been real busy around here, between working for the neighbors and helping my granddad out around the house, it keeps me on my toes. I know you'se working hard too, and I'm real proud of you. Tell everyone I miss them, and that I'll see them soon. Love you, Jack."

* * *

The weeks had been long and grueling, and by the time mid-June rolled around, Jack was ready for summer to be over. His schedule had only gotten tighter, and he rarely got the chance to give Crutchie a call between work and sleep. But he still managed it, every night, even if Crutchie didn't always answer. They would leave each other voicemails and get back as soon as the other's schedule would allow. Jack decided that he wasn't a fan of this long-distance thing, and was counting the days until Crutchie would come back to the city. On numerous occasions his friends would suggest Jack take a few days off and go visit him, but between groceries and the never shrinking medical bills, Jack just simply didn't have the spare cash to buy a train ticket, let alone lose days of work. As much as he wanted to see Crutchie, it wasn't feasible.

Jack laid down on his makeshift bed, pulling up Crutchie's contact info and starting a call. The phone rang a few times before his voicemail answered, and Jack sighed with disappointment.

"Hey Crutchie, it's me," Jack said. "It's been, what? A month? Little over? I can't believe how long it's been. It feels like no time at all yet at the same time like an eternity. How's country life treating you? Learn how to milk any cows yet? I actually had some free time this afternoon to work on a painting. I tried calling you too, but you didn't answer; must've been busy. I know you'se working hard, and I'm proud of you. Everyone misses you here. Katherine and Sarah are officially dating now, as if they weren't before. But, you know, it's on Facebook, so it's gotta be legit now, right? Davey's doing alright, though I'se still worried about him. He's been working hard coming up with those pride drinks and treats we talked about a while ago, and they'se selling pretty good. And we even got an ace one, just for you. Wish you were here to try it, it ain't that bad. Les comes in and orders his straight drink every chance he gets. He even brought his girl, Sally, one day, and you won't believe this. She ordered the pan drink. You shoulda seen Les's face, he was so surprised, but not disappointed."

Jack took a breath, sighing into the phone. "I really wish you was here. Everyone's talking about getting together and watching the parade when it happens. Have you ever been to pride before? If you haven't we gotta get you to go sometime. Spot and Race get super into it, I'se talking face paint and everything. Hell, we even got Davey to wear eyeliner last year, but we couldn't convince him to wear the glitter. I think you'd like it. Or at least, if you'se gone before, I think it'd be fun to go together someday, as a couple and all that. But, uh, maybe next year, yeah?"

He paused. "Sorry, I'se probably talking your ear off. I'll let you go. I miss you, and I can't wait to see you in August. Love you."

Jack set his phone down beside him, staring at it for a moment. Maybe he'd wake up tomorrow with enough time to call again. He so dearly missed Crutchie's voice.

* * *

[One New Voicemail]

[Crutchie M] "Hey Jack. Sorry, I keep missing your calls. My schedule has been really unpredictable lately. We'se out in the fields from sun up to sundown. I think I'se getting a tan. I tell ya, I never spend this much time outside. It's nice, though. Makes me feel alert. My granddad says the hard work would do me good; he don't think we do much work in the theatre. I tried explaining to him how we all work together to build the sets, and how being in shows is physically demanding, but he don't seem to get it. Guess it's just not his world, I suppose. But I'se getting stronger; I ain't wearing myself out so quickly anymore. My granddad thinks that with enough hard work and exercise I can straighten out my leg. I tried explaining that too that it ain't how that works, but he didn't get that either. Says I ain't working hard enough until 'I start walking properly', as if the way I walk ain't good enough as it is. But I know he don't mean nothing by it, he just doesn't get it, you know?

"Anyways, that family I told you I was working for? I got to meet their kids. We, uh, I don't think we get along too well. I tried getting to know them, since we'se all working together, but they didn't seem too interested. I might've heard wrong, but I'm pretty sure they said something . . . unkind earlier today. It was kinda offhand, though, so I coulda just been hearing wrong. I'm gonna try to get along with them, though. Ain't gonna make my working for their family miserable because we had a disagreement. But I'll try calling you tomorrow; it's getting pretty late. Drink lots of that ace drink for me; I don't want it to seem like it's unpopular. I'll talk to you soon, love you."

* * *

[Two New Voicemails]

[Crutchie M] Jack, it's me. I messed up. I messed up big time. We was working on the Delancey's property, putting away equipment in their storage unit. Mr. Delancey had me carry something up to the second floor, up a ladder, right? Ladders ain't hard, not if you know what you'se doing. Their oldest son, Oscar, said I couldn't do it, though. Was real rude about it too. So, of course, I gotta prove him wrong, right? What else am I supposed to do? Agree with him? I got up there just fine, put the equipment away, but getting down . . . I lost my footing. It was a stupid mistake, I was being careless. I climbed plenty of ladders during the show last spring, it ain't hard for me, but I just stepped wrong and . . . yeah.

"It was awful, Jack. They made such a big fuss over it. I kept telling them I was fine, that I just landed weird and needed a bit to get my feet under me again, but they wouldn't have it. Mr. Delancey suggested I go to the ER but no way was I agreeing to that, it wasn't that long of a fall. Oscar and Morris, those are their sons, they wouldn't let me hear the end of it. I ain't gonna repeat the stuff they said, it ain't important, but now my granddad's not sure about letting me work for them anymore. Says I'll just end up hurting myself again. I hate when people do this, Jack. If this had happened to anyone else no one would be making a fuss. No one would be saying I pushed myself too hard or that I can't be trusted with hard work anymore. It ain't right. I gotta work ten times harder than anyone else to prove myself equal. I don't get the advantage of slipping up. Anyone else can make mistakes with no consequences, but no, as soon as the disabled guy does, they take away any sense of independence he had. I should be allowed to screw up sometimes too. I should be allowed to have bad days without losing my rights. This world ain't catered to people like me, and you know? It sucks; it fucking sucks.

"Anyways, I'se been griping too long. If you made it through this voicemail, I commend you. I'll talk to you later, love you."

[Crutchie M] "So, uh, I got in my first fight today. Before you start panicking, I'm okay. Well, not entirely, but you should see the other guy. I don't like conflict, you know that. If we can talk things out I'd be much happier. But, talking wasn't really an option here. I told him to back off, that I didn't want no trouble. But clearly, he did. It was the younger son, Morris. He stopped by to drop something off from his parents for my granddad. Guess he was also looking for a fight. Why he wanted one, I don't know. Maybe he thought I was an easy target or something. He and his brother strike me as the kind of guys who'll pick fights for fun.

"Anyways, he was the one to swing first. Nailed me right in the eye too. Probably got a pretty bruise now, or at least it feels like I do. He's bigger than me too, not that it takes much . . . but I'se pretty agile. Needless to say, it was a fair fight. Pretty sure I broke his nose, too. Ain't too proud of that, I can't get the sound of it crunching out of my head, but it was self-defense, so I ain't gonna apologize for it. Who knows, maybe they'll back off now. Or maybe his older brother's just gonna get pissed and come after me too. Not sure I could take them both at the same time. Hopefully it won't come to that.

"I miss you. I miss you a lot. June's gonna be over soon, and then we still got all of July and half of August to get through. I don't think I'se gonna get a chance to come into the city before then. Granddad keeps me busy. I'd ask you to come visit, but train tickets ain't cheap. So, I guess we gotta just wait until August. It'll be here before we know it. I love you, and I'll talk to you soon."

* * *

"You want me to drive you where?"

"The train station," Jack explained impatiently, shoving a change of clothes into his backpack.

"Jack, it's one in the morning," Race complained. "I ain't driving you nowhere."

"It's an emergency," Jack insisted. "It's what? A twenty-minute drive?"

"What's the emergency?" Race asked. "And why can't it wait until tomorrow?"

"I'm worried about Crutchie," Jack said, pulling on his shoes.

"You woke me up when I work first shift tomorrow, demanding I drive you to the train station, because you'se worried about Crutchie?" Race questioned.

"I ain't just worried, he left me a voicemail," Jack stated. "I think he's in trouble."

"What kind of trouble?" Race asked.

"I don't know, some lowlifes is giving him a hard time, and I'se just worried about him, okay?"

"A hard time?" Race asked. "Jack, the man is eighteen years old, he can handle a hard time."

"I don't like it," Jack said. "I don't like it one bit."

"Jack, slow down for a minute, would you?" Race commanded. "What happened exactly?"

"I don't know, some guys are picking fights with him for no good reason," Jack stated. "Someone needs to teach them a lesson."

"How is Crutchie responding to that?" Race asked.

Jack shrugged. "He broke one of the guy's nose."

"Then he can handle himself," Race said. "I know you'se all protective of him and stuff, but you gotta let the kid fend for himself. He ain't a child."

"This ain't about whether or not he can take care of himself," Jack argued. "I ain't gonna just sit around while somebody's giving the person I care about a hard time. Teasing is one thing, but picking fights ain't okay."

"You got money for a train ticket?" Race asked.

Jack was silent for a moment. "I can get by."

"Listen to me, Jack, unless he specifically said, 'Jack please come save me' you don't got any reason running off and trying to be a hero. Not only is it not feasible for you right now, but you'll just wound his pride. Take a breath, maybe give him a call in the morning? But don't run off and try to save the day, he ain't a damsel in distress."

Jack sighed. "I never said he was."

"No, but he might interpret it that way," Race told him. "I know you miss him, but if you'se gonna try and go see him, see him because you miss him, not because you wanna defend his honor or some shit."

Jack stared at Race for a moment before slumping down on the couch. "Yeah, yeah, you'se right."

"Get some sleep, Jack," Race told him. "And don't wake me up again."

* * *

"Crutchie?"

"Hey Jack! Been a long time, hasn't it?"

"Yeah, a long time," Jack agreed, pressing the phone between his ear and shoulder as he pulled on his shoes. "You doing alright?"

"Can't complain," Crutchie said. "You, uh, get my voicemails?"

"Yeah late last night," Jack said. "Hey, you'se okay, right?"

"Well, gramps is letting me continue working for Mr. Delancey, so that's good I suppose. I'se walking over there now, so I can't talk for long."

"Yeah, I gotta head into work, but I just wanted to make sure you'se okay," Jack explained.

"I'll be alright," Crutchie said. "I think I scared the pants off of that Morris guy. He didn't stick around too long after I busted up his face."

"Just don't go getting yourself into too much trouble," Jack cautioned him. "Trust me, you don't want to make a habit out of getting into fights."

"I'll do my best," Crutchie said with a laugh. "I hope Mr. Delancey ain't too mad about me breaking his son's nose. I mean, he don't strike me as the kind of guy who'd get particularly upset over something like that, but you never know."

"Maybe don't mention it to him," Jack suggested.

"My lips is sealed, but I don't know about Morris's," Crutchie said.

"If he asks just say it was self-defense, that ain't a lie," Jack said. "I'se sure he'll understand."

"Yeah, it ain't that big of a—" Crutchie's voice stopped.

"You there?" Jack asked, checking to see if the call was still on.

"Time for trouble and make it double," Crutchie said quietly. "I'll call you back."

"What's going on?" Jack asked. "Crutchie?"

No response. He looked at his phone screen to see the line had gone dead.

* * *

"Crutchie, it's me," Jack said into the receiver. "You okay? It's been a while and I hasn't heard back from you yet. I'se on my break and will be back at work in a few, so if you call me I might not answer. Just, call me back when you get the chance. I love you."

* * *

"Crutchie, it's Jack. You haven't returned my messages. I'se, uh, getting a little worried. It's probably nothing, you probably just got busy and that's okay, but as soon as you can call me back, yeah? I just want to hear your voice. I know, that sounds stupid, but I do. I love you, and I'll hear from you soon, alright?"

* * *

[One New Voicemail]

[Crutchie M] "Hey Jack, I was really hoping you'd be awake, but I can understand why you wouldn't be. Sorry, my phone got, uh, broken, to say the least. I'll spare you the details. Everything's fine. I'm . . . really exhausted in every way possible. I got a new phone, so that's cool. I'm gonna be honest, I'm not doing so hot. Oscar wasn't too happy about me busting up his brother's face. You know, two to one ain't a fair fight. I'm now rocking two shiners, among . . . other things. Let me tell you, I got in some good hits, though. Turns out a crutch full force to the shin does some serious damage. Oscar's probably limping worse than me now.

"Anyways, I'm fine, for the most part. I ain't allowed to work for Mr. Delancey no more, though. Not because Mr. Delancey was done with me, but because my granddad don't want me going over there no more. I think he's real disappointed with me now. Says I'se been giving him a bunch of trouble these last couple of weeks. He said . . . he said to be glad we'se family or else, well, I ain't gonna finish that statement. It ain't nothing nice. I think I'm ready to go back to school. I miss all you guys. And I miss the theatre. It's been great working for my granddad, but I don't think he's really enjoyed it much. You kinda know when you'se not wanted, you know?

"I know what you'se gonna say. You'se gonna make a fuss and try to come out here and bust some heads. But don't. It ain't worth it. Just one more month and it'll be over. Besides, Oscar and Morris is leaving soon to go back to the city with their uncle. So, I ain't gotta worry about them no more. It'll just be me and my granddad and a whole lot of goats. But, I'se gonna be honest with you real quick. Ain't no place ever felt like home, not until I met you, and the rest of you guys at the shop. I miss that. I miss feeling like I belong somewhere. Like I ain't in everybody's way. Like I ain't just some . . . well, I ain't gonna say that. You get the picture. And I know, this message is longer than necessary. I just miss you. A lot. It's lonely here. It's like growing up all over again. Sorry, that was probably more information than you wanted. I'll stop talking your ear off now. One more month. I love you."

* * *

[One New Voicemail]

[Crutchie M] "Two weeks. We just have two more weeks. And I'm being sent away. Granddad heard your last voicemail. Why he was snooping on my phone is beyond me, something about making sure I'se being an upright citizen. He don't have social media, so he don't ever see the stuff I post online. I'se pretty open, you know that, especially on the internet. But, it just never came up between us. It never had a reason to. He don't ask about my personal life and I don't tell. But I guess after getting in fights with the Delanceys he decided he needed to make sure I wasn't a troublemaker, or, worse things that he said.

"To put it simply, he knows about you, and he don't like it. One bit. He said some pretty hurtful things, things I won't repeat, and said I gotta pack my stuff and get on the first train back to the city. That I can live on the streets for all he cares. So, uh, there goes my place to live. I don't know what's gonna happen with school now. He's done with me. I guess I'll have to take out loans. I can't drop out. Not that dropping out is bad, but I've dreamed of doing theatre ever since I was little, and I ain't gonna get nearly as far if I don't get the experience school gives me. So, yeah. In the morning, I'm heading back to the city. Maybe Davey will be nice enough to let me crash at his place a couple of weeks? I hate to ask, though, I know he's been going through a hard time.

"Jack, I don't know what I'm gonna do. He was the only family I had. I don't think I even have cousins. I don't think I'se ever felt so alone. I shouldn't be crying to you about this. You know better than anyone what that's like. I just don't know how to handle it. I suppose I should've known I was set up for disappointment since he never adopted me in the first place. What kind of grandparent leaves their orphaned grandson to the foster system, anyways? I'm not crying, I'm just . . .

"I don't know where to go. How do they expect us to survive? I ain't even nineteen yet, and I'se got nowhere to go. If I can't keep my spot in school I'll be living on the streets. And then what do I do when winter comes, and summer? I don't have a job, I got no way to support myself. It's a broken system. They don't care about us. I could starve to death and no one would notice. If I hadn't decided to come into the shop that day and met all of you, I'd be completely alone. And the system doesn't care.

"Please call me back, as soon as you can. Everything's falling apart, and I don't know what to do. I'll be back in the city in twelve hours. I'll see you soon, Jack. I love you."


	33. Chapter 33

**Sorry for the, what? Three week delay? School has started for me and I'm a little overwhelmed with starting a new college and living in a dorm again. I've got some big plans for future chapters of this fic, so I'll try not to delay so long again. Thanks again for reading! And remember, reviews keep me writing!**

Jack stood on the train platform, tapping his foot impatiently as he waited for the train to roll in. It was running five minutes late, and that was already five minutes too long.

"It'll be here soon," Race assured him, stifling a yawn. It was an early Saturday morning, and Race had worked last shift the night before. However, when Jack asked him to drive him to the train station, after he heard the explanation, there was no way he could refuse.

The platform was crowded, and people were starting to become agitated with the lateness of the train. Jack checked the clock on his phone for what felt like the millionth time. Seven past eight, and still no train.

"Have you tried calling him?" Race asked.

"Twice, he ain't answering," Jack muttered.

"Maybe he fell asleep?" Race suggested.

Jack nodded noncommittally. "Yeah, maybe."

At ten after, the train could finally be heard in the distance, and Jack let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. The train rolled in, and soon the platform was bustling to life with travelers getting on and off, meeting their families and rushing to their next destination.

Jack craned his neck, looking for the familiar face of his partner amidst the crowd. Race spotted him before Jack did, pointing him out and tugging Jack towards his direction.

A pair of tired green eyes met his, and Jack could see Crutchie's face light up ever so slightly. He smiled as Crutchie approached, letting the smaller man fall into his arms in a tight embrace.

"Welcome home," Jack said, holding him as closely as physically possible.

"Good to see you, Jack," Crutchie breathed, his voice muffled in Jack's shoulder.

The two stood there for a moment, content to take in each other's presence for the first time in almost three months.

"Hey, let's get out of here before someone throws a fit at us," Race said, clasping a hand on Crutchie's shoulder.

"Have you had breakfast yet?" Jack asked, pulling away.

"No, I'm starved," Crutchie said, attempting to pat down some of his unruly hair.

"Let's get you some food; where sounds good?" Jack asked, throwing an arm over Crutchie's shoulder and ushering him away from the platform, Race following closely behind.

"Jacobi's," Crutchie said, without a second thought. "I ain't had nothing but instant coffee since May."

"Well, that won't do," Race commented. "No offense, but you look like you could use a good cup."

"Yeah, I ain't slept much lately," Crutchie explained.

"You sure coffee's a good idea, then?" Jack asked.

"At this point, I'd even fight Spot for a good light roast French pressed coffee," Crutchie said.

"Looking at you, I'd say you could take him," Jack stated. "Have you been working out?"

Crutchie shrugged. "Lotta manual labor these past couple of months," he explained.

"Unfortunately, I'se afraid Mini would disapprove of her two favorite boys fighting," Race pointed out. "So, let's settle this with coffee."

"Fair deal," Crutchie agreed, and the three left the station in relative quiet.

The drive to Jacobi's wasn't far, but to Jack it felt infinite. Crutchie barely spoke a word, electing to stare out the window and only give noncommittal answers to casual questions asked. How was the ride? When's the last time he slept? Meet any interesting people on the train? Crutchie would answer in as few words as possible and continue to stare blankly at the world flying by outside his window. It was uncharacteristic at best, worrisome at worst, but Jack decided to chalk it up to him being tired, both physically and emotionally. Crutchie would open up when he was ready; he always did.

Race parked in the back, having the others follow him through the employee entrance into the shop and finding a table in the courtyard to sit. Crutchie visibly lit up when they took their seats, and Jack felt a rush of relief wash over him. They were home, after all.

"Crutchie, you'se back in town," Blink said with a smile, coming up to their table and holding a pen and notepad at the ready. "We thought you wouldn't be back for another two weeks."

Crutchie shrugged. "We had some change in plans," he explained, smiling casually. It didn't quite meet his eyes, though, Jack noted.

"Well, good to see ya," Blink said. He paused, looking Crutchie up and down. "Real good to see ya. What can I get for you boys today?"

"Machiato," Race ordered. "And tell Albert to stop going cheap on the foam."

"Water for me," Jack said, looking over the menu.

"I'll have my usual," Crutchie said.

"Four or five sugars?" Blink asked.

"Just four today," Crutchie decided.

"And what'll you boys be eating?" Blink asked, writing down the drink orders.

"French toast, extra whip cream," Race said, handing Blink his menu.

"I'll have the same," Jack said, handing over his menu as well.

"Waffles with the espresso syrup," Crutchie concluded, passing Blink the last menu.

"Coming right up," Blink said. "Might be a little slow today. Finch called in sick. Something about a slingshot accident."

"Davey got anyone to cover for him?" Jack asked.

"Yeah, Davey," Blink explained. "He's gotten real good in the kitchen these past few months." He looked around, leaning in over the table and motioning for the others to do the same. "But between you and me, he's working himself too hard. Keeps trying to come up with new menu ideas and more efficient ways of cooking. I ain't seen him take a day off in, what? Three weeks?"

"The idiot's gonna burn himself out," Race muttered. "I know we'se been short staffed without Spot, but he should be looking to hire someone new, not adding to his work hours."

Blink shrugged. "You didn't hear this from me, but Mush says he overheard Davey talking with the boss. Says that since Spot's case is closed and got away with just reckless driving, he should be able to keep his job. Davey's still working real hard to reinstate Spot. I think the boss is gonna agree to it, too. But don't go telling Spot this yet; don't wanna get his hopes up in case shit hits the fan."

"It'd sure as hell be better for him to get his job back here than at any of the other shops in the area," Race stated.

"What's wrong with the other shops in the area?" Crutchie asked. "Ain't a job a job?"

"Well, naturally we want him working here," Race said. "Starbucks gives good benefits but do you honestly think he'd get along with anyone working there? Black Mesa Brewery ain't bad but the owner's a creep and everyone knows it. And then there's Aperture Café but if he got a job there I'd divorce him on sight."

"You ain't married to him, though," Jack pointed out.

"I'd marry him just so I could divorce him," Race stated.

"To be honest, Crutchie," Blink put in. "We'se ethically the best shop in the area. Sure, the others get more business than we do, but if you look at employee retention and wages, we'se top notch."

"Too bad no customer sees that and goes to those other places first," Race grumbled. "Honestly, summer's the worst. We get mostly the college crowd here, and they'se all gone for the holiday. We ain't got no fancy signs like the Brewery or state of the art cake like the Café, but we got more soul than both of those places and Starbucks combined. But the average crowd don't see that."

"Yeah, not to mention the others play dirty at the bake sale every year," Blink added.

"Bake sale?" Crutchie asked.

"We has this annual bake sale every summer," Jack explained. "Actually happened a couple of weeks ago. Supposed to be a big charity event where we set up booths and sell our best goods to the public. Whoever rakes in the most money by the end of the day is crowned the winner. Don't get much besides the dignity of winning, but it's a big deal among the coffee shops. The other shops overcharge the shit out of their goods, but people buy them anyways because it's usually only rich white folks that show up to this event. We try to keep things fair, and don't charge more than what we do on a day-to-day basis, but every year we come in third."

"Yeah, and this year we was real pressured by the boss to do better," Race continued. "I don't think Davey slept a wink that week working with Finch and Tommy Boy to get the goods baked to perfection. Even with some of his and Katherine's new pastry ideas we still didn't compete with the others. Katherine almost threw down with the manager of the Café too."

"Why's that?" Crutchie asked.

"That manager's a witch," Race said. "Kept trying to knock us down a peg by saying we ain't sanitary or some shit. Specs had to hold her back from throwing hands."

"Point is," Blink said. "We get a bad rep from the other shops, cause we try to do honest work. That's why if Spot's gonna work at any shop in town, it should be here."

"And half the reason Davey's been working so hard lately," Race added.

"Anyways, I'll go put those orders in," Blink said. "It's good to see you back, Crutchie."

Crutchie smiled at him as Blink left to head back to the kitchen. It was only a few minutes before he returned with their drink orders, and for the first time in ages Crutchie experienced the familiar rush of drinking good and proper coffee.

"Oh boy, here they come," Race said, rolling his eyes but smiling all the same.

Crutchie looked up to see Katherine, Romeo, and Albert all make their way out of the shop and into the courtyard, Katherine running up and crashing into Crutchie with a hug. He was taken aback for a moment, but quickly recovered and returned the hug, a smile brightening his face.

"You're back!" Katherine exclaimed, pulling away and straightening her apron.

"I'se back," Crutchie agreed, getting to his feet and in turn giving Romeo and Albert hugs too.

"Did you get taller?" Romeo asked, looking Crutchie up and down.

"I don't think so?" Crutchie guessed. "My clothes still fit."

"Nah, I think he got broader, though," Albert suggested. "He ain't so scrawny no more."

"His face ain't so round no more, either," Romeo added. "Hell Crutchie, you got handsome."

"He was already handsome," Jack argued.

"You'se right," Albert agreed. "Now he's hot. Damn boy, if things don't work out with you and Jack hit me up."

"Ignore him, he's got Elmer," Romeo said. "But uh, you got my number, right?"

"And you have Specs, now leave the man alone," Katherine scolded.

Crutchie's face had turned pink. "Aw, I'm touched," he joked.

"As sweet as it is to see you all flirting with my boyfriend, ain't you got a shop to run?" Jack put in.

"You'se just jealous," Albert teased. "Hey, it's good to see you, Crutchie," he added, giving a final wave and heading back into the shop.

"Call me," Romeo whispered with a wink, holding up his hand to the side of his face like a phone before turning and following after Albert.

"I'm glad to have you back," Katherine said, giving Crutchie a final hug. "Coffee is on the house today."

"Thanks, Kath," Crutchie said. "It's good to see you."

Katherine gave him a warm smile before heading after the others into the shop, Crutchie taking his seat back at the table.

It wasn't long before Blink came back with their meals and the three ate in relative silence. Jack was glad to have Crutchie back, but something didn't feel right. It didn't feel like Crutchie was there, at least, not entirely. It's like part of him was missing somehow, and Jack didn't know what to do about it. He hadn't really gotten to talk to Crutchie about the last messages he sent him, and quite frankly he was afraid to bring them up. He would let Crutchie do that in his own time, whenever that time was.

The three paid for their meal and headed back to the car. It had already been decided that Crutchie would stay at Spot and Race's place until the semester started, allowing that Crutchie would still be going to school. It all seemed very up in the air at the moment, and Jack wasn't ready to suggest Crutchie deal with that battle just yet.

When they got to the apartment, Jack insisted on carrying Crutchie's suitcase for him, and Crutchie didn't seem up for arguing that. They headed up the stairs and into the apartment, where Mini was waiting to greet them.

"Hello Mini me," Crutchie said, reaching down to gently pick up the kitten. "You'se gotten bigger."

"Spot feeds her too much, that's what it is," Race stated, closing the door behind them.

"Where is Spot, anyways?" Crutchie asked.

"Looking for work," Race answered. "We hadn't been too optimistic on him getting his job back at the shop so he's been out every day trying to find a job elsewhere."

"No luck?" Crutchie asked.

Race shook his head. "No luck."

"The floor ain't too comfy," Jack said, setting Crutchie's suitcase down in the corner next to his. "You'se probably better off taking the couch."

"Floor's got more room," Crutchie pointed out. "It ain't a problem."

Jack shrugged. "Up to you," he said.

"I gotta get ready for work," Race sighed. "Jack, you need a ride back over?"

"Nah, I don't go in until this afternoon," he said. "I'll catch a bus."

Race disappeared into his and Spot's room, the sound of water running to be heard a few moments later.

Crutchie dropped his backpack and sunk into the couch, still holding Mini in his arms. Jack took the seat beside him, draping an arm over his shoulders.

"It's good to have you back," Jack said. "I'se really missed you."

Crutchie hummed, resting his head on Jack's shoulder. "I'se missed you too," he replied.

They sat in silence for a while, Jack starting to wonder if Crutchie had simply fallen asleep. One look confirmed his thoughts; Crutchie was out like a light. Mini still rested in his arms, purring softly. When Race entered the room, Jack quickly motioned for him to stay quiet; Race nodded in comply and tiptoed out of the apartment.

The two were left alone.

Jack was exhausted, having hardly slept the night before. But he couldn't sleep; there were too many thoughts rummaging through his head for his brain to slow down enough to allow sleep. Instead he sat there patiently waiting until Crutchie would wake.

By the time he did, it was almost time for Jack to head into work. Crutchie looked up groggily at him, and Jack gently kissed his forehead in greeting.

"Morning, sleepy-head," he teased.

"What time is it?" Crutchie asked, stretching.

"Little after two," Jack said, dropping his arm. "You was out."

"Guess I could finally sleep," he mused.

"How long's it been?" Jack asked.

Crutchie shrugged. "I don't know, a few days?" he suggested. "Things has been kinda stressful this past week."

Jack paused for a moment. "You wanna talk about it?" he eventually asked.

Crutchie sat still, seemingly thinking. "It's messed up, Jack," he said. "All of it. I'se got nowhere to turn."

"You'se got us," Jack pointed out.

"How long's it gonna last before that disappears too?" Crutchie asked.

"Ain't none of us disappearing," Jack told him. "Don't even think it."

"Do you know that for sure?" Crutchie questioned. "How can you say with certainty that you ain't gonna disappear?"

"Because there ain't no way I'se leaving you alone," Jack said firmly. "I promise you that."

Crutchie went silent, not appearing encouraged in the slightest. He gently ran his fingers over the now sleeping Mini's head, looking down at her blankly.

"That's what they said," Crutchie whispered. "That they'd never leave. But they did. And I ain't sure I believe in promises like that anymore."

Jack frowned. He wrapped his arm back over Crutchie's shoulders and pulled him close to his chest.

"Mini," Crutchie protested, worried about the kitten getting squished between them.

"She'll be fine," Jack assured him, brushing the tips of his fingers along Crutchie's back. He knew he should say something, something that would chase away Crutchie's anxieties, but at this point Jack wasn't sure how to conquer them. Perhaps this wasn't a situation for words? Perhaps, the best thing he could do in this situation was to just be present, and listen.

Crutchie rested his head on Jack's shoulder, scooting as close as the sleeping kitten would allow. "Adults is supposed to take care of us. What the hell is we supposed to do if they don't?"

"We take care of ourselves," Jack answered. "And look out for each other. Damn the adults who never did their jobs. Besides, we'se the adults now. We'll do what the older generation never could. We'll show them we'se better than them."

"I don't feel like an adult," Crutchie admitted. "I feel like I'se grown up too fast. There's a great big world out there and I ain't even the least bit equipped to take it on."

"What the hell is you talking about?" Jack asked. "I ain't never seen no one readier to take on the world than you."

Crutchie laughed at that. "There's a few people who'd say differently."

"Screw what they say," Jack said. "You'se good at proving people wrong, anyways."

Crutchie smiled softly, and gently pulled away. "What am I gonna do about school now? If I don't go back to school, I ain't got nowhere to go."

"We'll figure something out," Jack assured him. "You'se got a big future ahead, and you'se getting that degree. In the meantime, you know you'se got a place here."

"What about during breaks? And all of summer?" Crutchie questioned. "And when I graduate?"

"We'll worry about that when the time comes," Jack said. "Let's just take it one step at a time, okay? You ain't gonna be homeless, I swear it."

"We?" Crutchie asked, looking at him curiously.

"Well yeah, you don't think I'se gonna leave you to figure life out on your own, do you?" Jack stated.

Crutchie thought about that. "You'se planning to stick around until I graduate?"

"Of course," Jack said. "Wouldn't dream of leaving. But in order for you to graduate, you gotta find a way to start this semester off strong, don't you?"

Crutchie slowly nodded. "I gotta lot of calls to make, don't I?"

Jack smiled. "It'll all work out. You'll see."

Crutchie looked up at him and grinned. "Okay, no point in moping about it no more. Screw my granddad; he was an asshole, anyways."

"That's the spirit," Jack said. "Screw the old man!"

"Screw him and every other asshole adult out there!" Crutchie cheered.

"Screw those guys who say we can't make it for ourselves!" Jack joined in.

"Screw those jackass Delancey brothers!" Crutchie shouted.

"Screw the man who tries to push us down!"

"Screw homophobic grandparents!"

"Screw the system!"

"Fuck the system!"

"Fuck Snyder!"

"Especially fuck Snyder!"

Their voices had raised from cheering to screams, and a very disgruntled half-asleep Mini meowed in discontent, jumping off of Crutchie's lap to find somewhere quieter to finish her nap. The two watched her in silence before busting into fits of laughter, Jack nearly falling off the couch in his mirth.

"We'se a mess, ain't we?" Crutchie wheezed.

"Hell yeah, we is," Jack agreed. "But we'se the best kind of mess."

"Yeah? And how's that?" Crutchie asked.

"We'se a determined mess," Jack said. "And we'se a mess together."

Crutchie smiled. "Jack?" he said.

"Yeah?" Jack asked.

"Thank you. For, well, everything," he said. "You'se stuck around and that means a lot. Ain't really had anyone stick around for me before. Thank you."

Jack smiled, pulling him back into a hug. "And I ain't going nowhere. Not ever."

Crutchie grinned, melting into Jack's arms. He'd be alright; they'd be alright.

Yeah, they'd be alright.


	34. Chapter 34

**It has been So Long. A lot of exciting things have happened since I last updated. For starters, I got a job in the scene shop at the theatre at my college! Like, a real paid job! I'm a technical assistant! And I've also been working on a new script for a stage play, which has taken up a lot of my writing energy. But I have Big Plans for this fic coming up real soon, so I hope to not take another three weeks to update.**

 **As always, thanks for being patient, and reviews keep me writing!**

"You wanna use our apartment for what now?"

"Just a small get-together, don't get your underwear in a twist," Jack explained, handing off a drink to its appropriate customer.

"A small get-together," Race repeated. "And for what, exactly?"

"Crutchie's birthday," Jack stated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "He's headed back to school in the next week and it'd be a good last hurrah before his semester starts. Also, you know, some actual decent summer memories for him."

"Crutchie's birthday's coming up?" Race asked. "Since when?"

"Haven't you noticed all the hints he's been dropping?" Jack pointed out. "He was googling cakes last night for crying out loud."

Race shrugged. "I just figured he was being his usual self," he admitted. Race paused to take a new order, and Jack got started on the beverage.

"So, you wanna throw him a party," Race concluded, leaning his back against the counter.

"Nothing spectacular, just a handful of close friends," Jack said. "Maybe we can all pitch in and get him something nice? New shoes or something? His old ones is wearing out real bad."

"You ain't gonna get him something special?" Race asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Well, yeah, but that'd be added to a group gift," Jack stated. "He deserves at the very least two gifts."

"True," Race agreed. "You gonna paint him something? I ain't seen you do much painting lately."

Jack shrugged. "Been too busy working," he explained.

Race eyed him curiously. "Alright," he said, unconvinced. "So, what is you gonna get him?"

"Thought about one of those coffee things," Jack said. "He'll need something to make his morning coffee when he's back in the dorm, so he don't have to buy coffee here every day."

"What coffee thing?" Race asked.

"You know, the thing that presses down the grains to make it all strong," Jack described.

"You mean a French press?" Race clarified.

"Yeah! That!" Jack said, snapping his fingers.

"Jack, you work in a damn coffee shop and you couldn't remember French press?" Race questioned.

"Words is hard, okay?" Jack argued, shuffling past him to get to the register, taking a new order for a customer.

"We sell those here, so getting your hands on one shouldn't be too hard," Race explained a moment later, adding foam to the drink. "Do me a favor and add something nice to this, alright?"

Jack shook his head. "We'se just gonna put a top on it, anyways," he said, taking the cup and popping on the lid. He handed it off to the waiting customer with a polite smile.

"You ain't been doing much latte art lately," Race noted. "Ain't been painting either. You sure something ain't up?"

Jack shrugged. "Nothing's up," he answered. "Just been uninspired lately, I guess."

Race stared at him, saying nothing.

"It ain't nothing to worry about," Jack assured him. "Just out of my groove, is all."

"Uh-huh," Race said noncommittally. "Whatever you say."

"So, party," Jack said, getting back to their earlier conversation. "Tomorrow night; what do you say?"

Race nodded. "Shouldn't be a problem," he said. "Just gotta clear it with Spot first. Mini will be happy for the company, at least."

"I'll let the others know," Jack decided, smiling with a thin layer of excitement.

"You planning on this being a surprise?" Race asked.

"Nah," Jack said. "I think we'se had enough unexpected situations lately."

Race nodded in agreement. "Ain't that the truth." He paused to take a new order. "Hey, get me a flat white, would ya?"

Jack nodded, getting to work on the drink. He started with usual precision, but paused halfway through. He looked down at the drink, feeling the wheels turning in his head but going nowhere. Carefully, he looked up at Race, confusion clear on his face.

"Hey, uh, how much vanilla goes in a flat white again?" he asked.

Race gave him a peculiar glance. "There ain't no vanilla in a flat white, Jack," he reminded him.

"Right, right," Jack said, looking back down at the cup, halfway filled with coffee. "What, uh, goes in it again?"

"Foamed milk," Race said, shooting him a look. "You'se made five of these today already."

"Yeah, that's right," Jack said, nodding. "Had a memory lapse."

Race didn't say anything, simply looking at him with concern.

"I'm fine," Jack assured him. "Brain fart, is all."

"Uh-huh," Race said, nodding slowly.

Jack handed off the finished drink, made to usual perfection. No more mishaps were made.

That day.

* * *

"Three, two, one!"

Cheers erupted around him as Crutchie blew out the last of his candles, all nineteen being taken out in a single breath.

"What did you wish for?" Race asked, bouncing from foot to foot.

"Better not be what we already got you as a present," Spot warned, pointing a warning finger at him.

"Knowing him, it was probably for a second cake," Katherine joked.

"What's wrong with the one we got?" Race asked. "We spent a whole afternoon baking this thing!"

"There ain't nothing wrong with it," Crutchie assured him. "I love chocolate. But Katherine's right in thinking that I'd wish for extra cake."

"Did you seriously waste your wish on that?" Sarah asked, giving him a disappointed look.

"Hell no," Crutchie said. "I wished for something better than cake."

"Something such as?" Davey asked.

Crutchie looked down at the plate in front of him, smiling a little sheepishly to himself. "It's kinda stupid, but I wished for everyone else in this room to be as happy as I feel in this moment."

Jack grinned, leaning down to wrap his arms around him and kiss his cheek. "Ain't you just the sweetest."

"Yeah, that's disgustingly sweet, alright," Spot said, rolling his eyes.

"But you love me and you know it," Crutchie said, smiling warmly at him.

Spot looked away in lieu of an answer, avoiding the younger man's eyes.

"Enough chatter, you gotta open your presents now," Race decided. "Most importantly, the one from all of us." He ducked behind the table to grab the present off the floor. "We all pitched in to get the best thing we could, so you better appreciate it."

"I'm sure I'll love it," Crutchie said, taking the present from Race's hands and tearing into it. Inside was a box, and after several moments of fighting against the tape he pulled off the lid. "No way!" Crutchie exclaimed. "Doc Marten's?"

"You like 'em?" Jack asked, hopeful.

"Hell yeah, I do!" Crutchie replied. "And they'se black too, so they'll match everything I own. You guys know how expensive these things are? You really shouldn't have gone all out like that."

"Like Race said, we all pitched in," Davey explained. "It was really no trouble between all of us."

"Thank you," Crutchie said. "Really, it means a lot. My current pair of shoes are starting to tear up."

"Hold onto that excitement cause you got one more gift," Jack said, grabbing the last bag from behind the table. "This one's all from me. Paid for it myself and everything."

"Nah, I'd have thought you stole it," Crutchie joked, pulling the tissue paper out of the bag. "You didn't," he breathed.

"I did," Jack said, giddy.

"My very own personal French press?" Crutchie said, pulling the item out of the bag. "This is one of those you can carry with you, too! I'll be able to make myself coffee every morning now!"

"Just don't get it in your head that you have to stop coming to the shop now," Jack warned him. "We still wanna see you around regularly."

"I wouldn't dream of leaving you guys," Crutchie assured him. "This is the best, thank you." He stood up to give Jack a proper hug.

"Now that that's taken care of, let's dig into this cake," Katherine said, grabbing a knife out of the drawer. "Crutchie, how big of a piece do you want?"

"Half the cake," Crutchie replied, not missing a beat.

"You can have an eighth," Katherine said, cutting him the first piece. "The rest of you get sixteenths."

"Hey, what if I want an eighth too?" Race argued.

"Is it your birthday? No, didn't think so," Katherine responded.

Cake was passed around the room, everyone taking various seats around the table or on the couch. The apartment was filled with pleasant chatter, discussions on summer excitement, regaling of Pride adventures, Crutchie's enthusiastic explanations of the classes he was enrolled in for the next semester, and the occasional work-related story. It didn't take long for the cake to disappear, and for everyone to settle into the living room to watch a movie of Crutchie's choosing.

Sarah and Katherine took one side of the couch, while Spot and Race took the other. Jack and Crutchie settled on the floor, while Davey took the chair. Mini was curled up in Crutchie's lap, sleeping away as the movie played. Everyone was happy and content, the occasional comment being made by Jack or Race, and the incessant shushing by Spot and Sarah.

When the movie had ended, Spot stood up to make everyone tea (save for Crutchie, who demanded coffee). Conversation picked back up in the living room, and soon enough Mini was awake and bounding around the room, demanding attention from anyone who would give it to her.

"So, that makes roughly five hundred thousand words that I've read this past week," Davey was explaining.

"That's like, five books just this week," Katherine said, staring at him shocked. "When have you had time to read; you've been in work all day?"

"At night when I get home," Davey answered.

"Don't you ever sleep?" Race asked.

Davey shrugged. "If I get tired, sure."

Race gave Jack a concerned look, to which Jack simply shrugged. He was concerned as well, but he didn't want it to show. Not now.

"So, Crutchie, are you going to audition for any shows this semester?" Sarah asked.

Crutchie nodded enthusiastically. "They'se got a good lineup this year. I've got one in particular I'd like to be a part of, but we'll see how the auditions go."

"Which show are you hoping to get?" Jack asked.

"Can't say. Don't wanna jinx it," Crutchie explained.

"Hey Spot, how's that tea coming along?" Race called to the kitchen.

"It's gotta steep, keep ya shirt on," Spot snapped, the sound of his foot tapping impatiently against the floor being heard from the kitchen.

"Well, how about Crutchie's coffee, then?" Race asked.

"It's gotta brew," Spot answered, his foot still tapping.

"Aren't you the barista?" Sarah pointed out. "Why's Spot the one in charge of making the drinks?"

"Because I'se off today," Race answered. "And I make plenty of drinks as it is."

"The tea will be ready in a minute," Spot called. "So, come get your – oh shit!"

"What's the matter?" Race asked, pulling himself to his feet.

"Get out, get out, get out, get out!" Spot screamed, a hysterical shriek following.

"Spotty, what's the matter?" Race ran into the kitchen, taking off his show and brandishing it as a weapon.

"It's a moth!" Spot shouted.

"A moth? Well, don't just scream about it, kill it!" Davey snapped, getting to his feet as well.

"Where's the broom?" Spot asked, looking wildly around the kitchen for something to use as a weapon.

"I think it's in the closet," Race said, quickly running to check the closet off of the living room.

"Where is it?" Jack asked. "The moth; where'd it go?"

"I lost sight of it," Spot said, searching carefully for the intruder. "I don't – ah!"

"Did you find it?" Davey asked, backing away from the kitchen.

Spot ran into the living room. "Where's the damn broom, Race?" he demanded, following him to the closet.

"It's here," Race said, handing over the broom to Spot.

"Shit, it's in here now!" Jack exclaimed, backing away from the approaching insect.

"Where, where?" Spot asked.

"Up by the light," Davey said, pointing. "Kill it!"

"Don't kill it!" Crutchie put in. "Just get it outside."

"It's an intruder in our home, it has to go to hell," Spot declared, brandishing the broom like a sword and taking a swing at the moth.

"You'll break the light that way!" Race snapped. "Wait till it moves."

"It's a moth, it ain't gonna move from the light," Spot argued.

"Well, get another light to draw it away from that one," Race said. "Like, a flashlight or something."

"Get me a flashlight, then!" Spot snapped.

"I got one," Crutchie said, pulling out his phone and turning on the flashlight. He stood, holding it up towards the moth, hoping to get the intruder's attention.

"Kill it!" Davey cried.

"That's what I'm trying to do!" Spot shouted, holding the broom at the ready.

"Not with the broom, you'll take out Crutchie!" Jack argued, making a grab for the broom.

"Back off, Kelly, and let me do this my way!" Spot snapped, shifting so that the broom was out of Jack's reach.

The moth started fluttering down towards Crutchie's light. As soon as it got close, Spot took a swing at it with his fist.

"You missed!" Race shouted.

"I know I missed, shut up!" Spot shouted back. "Crutchie, hold the light still!"

"You'se gonna hit my phone," Crutchie argued, pulling his phone down towards his chest.

The moth followed the light, heading straight for Crutchie, who yelped and tried to jump back.

Spot took another swing, narrowly missing Crutchie's face.

"Hold still, dammit!" Spot shouted.

"Guys just open a window!" Davey suggested, pointing towards the window leading out to the fire escape.

"I told you, we gotta kill it!" Spot snapped. "Now get back here and die like a man!"

By this point Race was hiding in the closet, holding Mini close to his chest. Jack was barely keeping it together, having to sit on the floor or else risk falling over from laughter.

The moth stopped flying around Crutchie's head, sparing him from another swing of Spot's fist, going to land on the wall by the entrance to the kitchen.

"Now's your chance; kill it!" Race shouted, pointing at the moth.

Spot gripped the broom tightly in his hands, watching the moth carefully, calculating his next move.

He never got a chance to act. Before he could make a single movement, Sarah was walking towards the kitchen, shoe in hand, and promptly smacked it against the wall, squashing the moth in between.

"God, boys are stupid," she muttered, putting her shoe back on and walking over to sit back down beside Katherine.

"You just . . . killed it," Spot said, almost dumbfounded.

"Amazing what you can get done when you aren't screaming and running around," Sarah pointed out, smiling smartly at him.

Spot lowered the broom, staring at Sarah with awe and admiration.

"I think I need that tea now," Race said, hand gripped over his chest, Mini having escaped him.

Tea and coffee were divided amongst the group, a sense of calm finally returning to the apartment. After the excitement and adrenaline, everyone began to feel themselves drift to tiredness, and before long Katherine and Sarah excused themselves to go home, soon after followed by Davey. Race and Spot weren't far behind, deciding to turn in to bed early and taking Mini with them. Jack and Crutchie were left in the living room, a slew of cups and plates still scattered around, left to be cleaned up in the morning.

"That was . . . something," Jack said, yawning.

"I thought I was gonna die for a moment there," Crutchie laughed.

"Spot nearly took your head off," Jack agreed. "I'd have had to have a serious conversation with him if that happened."

"That poor moth," Crutchie said. "It just wanted to see the light."

"Well, it's seeing a new kind of light now," Jack joked.

"Do you think the Mothman will be vengeful towards us now?" Crutchie asked.

"The . . . the what?" Jack asked, confused.

"The Mothman," Crutchie explained. "Cryptid of West Virginia? You've never heard of the Mothman before?"

Jack blinked, shaking his head.

Crutchie sighed. "I have so much to teach you," he said.

"So, as far as birthdays go, how was today?" Jack asked, resting his arm across Crutchie's shoulders.

"Definitely one of the best," Crutchie said. "I haven't had a birthday that fun in, well, a long time."

"Glad we got to share it with you," Jack smiled.

"To be honest, I was pretty surprised with the present you got me," Crutchie said. "I half expected it to be a painting or something."

"Oh, right," Jack said, scratching the back of his head. "Didn't even think of that."

"I haven't seen your paintings in a while," Crutchie commented, "What've you been working on this summer?"

"Just some . . . stuff," Jack said noncommittally.

"Like what?" Crutchie asked.

"Nothing important," Jack answered.

"Can I see?" Crutchie asked.

"You know, I'm pretty tired. I think I'm gonna head to bed," Jack said, ignoring Crutchie's question. "Gotta open tomorrow, and all."

Crutchie frowned but didn't say anything more about the matter. "Yeah, I'll head to bed too."

"I'll make you coffee in the morning, how does that sound?" Jack asked.

Crutchie smiled. "Sounds good to me."

The two laid out their palette on the floor, crawling under the covers. Jack instinctively wrapped his arm over Crutchie, pulling him close to his side.

"Goodnight, love," Jack said, kissing his cheek.

"Goodnight, Jack," Crutchie responded, resting his head against Jack's shoulder.

He didn't say it earlier, but it had been the first birthday since Crutchie was very young that he had celebrated with friends. And it couldn't have possibly gone any better.

He did his best to not let the last conversation with Jack deter those good feelings.


	35. Chapter 35

"Should we really be taking the day off?" Davey asked as Katherine pulled him along by the hand, guiding him down a busy New York street.

"Why not?" Katherine asked. "We've both been working so hard lately; we deserve a break. Besides, Jack's taking good care of the coffeeshop and you know Blink can hold down the eatery just fine."

"But what if the owner calls in?" Davey asked. "You know I'm still in the middle of talking to him about getting Spot's job back."

"The owner won't mind if we take a day to ourselves," Katherine assured him. "He trusts us."

"Where are we even going?" Davey asked, looking around the street with curiosity. He hadn't been to this part of town before, even though it wasn't very far from the shop. He rarely went out of his usual circles, having no interest in venturing farther than where life demanded he go for necessary needs.

"The park," Katherine said. "But first, I need to make a stop." She held up the brown paper bag in her free hand. "I promised I'd bring a friend a treat today."

"Is that from the shop?" Davey asked.

Katherine nodded. "You'd like him. He absolutely adores your stupid earl grey cupcakes. Comes in for them at least twice a week and gets me to bring him one whenever he can't stop by."

Davey felt his face grow warm. "Told you they weren't stupid," he muttered.

Katherine stopped in front of what appeared to be a hole in the wall shop, pushing the door open with a ding and stepping inside. Davey looked up at the sign above the door, reading "Tribune Books" before following Katherine inside.

The first room of the shop was small, cramped, and filled with a smell of dust and old books, but it was somehow charming. There were bookshelves along every wall, and tables filled with even more books. A few chairs sat here and there, but they were also occupied by more books still. A doorway led further into the shop, where Davey could only assume more books lied in wait.

Katherine walked up to the register, where she ringed another bell sitting on the counter. A muffled voice could be heard coming from the back of the shop, followed by quick footsteps. A moment later, a man carrying a large stack of books appeared in the doorway, round glasses sitting crookedly on his nose and hair that appeared to have once been neat was now a mess atop his head.

"Katherine," the man said, setting down the books on the nearest table. "Good to see you."

"Hello, Darcy," Katherine said, walking up to the man and giving him a quick hug. "I brought you one of those god-awful treats."

"The earl grey cupcake again?" he asked, a light shining in his eyes.

"But of course," Katherine responded with a smile. "Oh, Darcy, this is my friend and coworker Davey. Davey, this is my good friend Darcy."

"How do you do," Darcy said, extending a hand to Davey.

"Pleased to meet you," Davey said, accepting his hand and shaking it.

"Davey here is the one responsible for your cupcake obsession," Katherine explained.

"Oh, you're that Davey," Darcy exclaimed. "Katherine has told me so much about you."

"Should I be concerned?" Davey asked.

"All good things," Katherine assured him. "We were just on our way to the park and I thought perhaps you'd have a book or two we'd be interested in."

"Well, I certainly don't have a shortage there," Darcy said. "What are you interested in?"

Katherine looked to Davey, who gave her a questioning look before looking at Darcy. "Well," he started. "I've been reading mostly historical texts lately. Have anything on West Virginian coal mining in the early twentieth century?"

Darcy looked thoughtful for a moment. "Not off the top of my head but let me have a look."

He disappeared into the back of the shop, returning a moment later with a book in hand and a thin layer of dust on his fingers.

"How does Ohio coal mining from the late nineteenth century sound?" Darcy asked, handing Davey the book. The title read "The Practical Miner's Companion, by Andrew Roy" on the cover.

"This will work," Davey said, thanking him for the book.

"Any reason you're looking for something like that in particular?" Darcy asked.

Davey shrugged. "Just broadening my horizons, I suppose," he explained.

"Davey's been reading nonstop lately," Katherine said. "Along with baking. And cooking. And watching documentaries. And working."

"Sounds like a busy life," Darcy commented.

"Keeps me occupied," Davey explained. "How much for the book?"

Darcy directed him to the register, where he rung up the book. Davey handed him the appropriate amount, and Darcy handed over the book to him.

"As you can see, I have plenty of books to go around," Darcy explained. "Feel free to come by anytime."

Davey nodded his thanks.

"How are things with Bill?" Katherine asked.

Darcy rolled his eyes. "I've tried calling, but he won't answer. I think things are done. For good this time."

Katherine frowned. "I'm sorry to hear that, Darcy. I know how invested you were in that relationship."

Darcy shrugged. "It's alright. You know what they say, there's always more fish in the sea."

He shot the briefest of glances towards Davey, who immediately averted his eyes.

"Well, I wish you well on future endeavors," Katherine said. "In the meantime, enjoy your cupcake. We'll see you around?"

"Stop by anytime," Darcy said, smiling warmly at them.

Katherine returned the grin, turning to exit the shop, Davey following closely behind.

When they got outside, Katherine looked at Davey. "He's pretty cute, huh?" she commented.

"If you're trying to set me up it won't work," Davey retorted.

"And why not?" Katherine asked.

"I'm not interested," Davey responded shortly.

"Oh? Why is that?" Katherine asked.

"I don't have time for something like that," Davey explained. "Or interest, for that matter."

Katherine was quiet for a moment. "Because Jack?" she eventually asked.

Davey didn't immediately answer. "I'm happy for him, you know that. And I wish only good things for him and Crutchie together. But . . ."

"But you wish things hadn't changed between the two of you?" Katherine supplied.

"It was my first relationship," Davey explained. "I had hoped it would last."

"Then why didn't it?" Katherine asked. "And don't try and say it was because of the mono incident."

Davey shook his head. "It wasn't that," he explained. "Maybe it was Sarah. Maybe it was just him. Or maybe I don't know how to hold onto good things, I don't know. It wouldn't have worked, anyways."

"And why not?" Katherine asked.

"Because no matter what he would have met Crutchie, and there's no way those two wouldn't have ended up together," Davey said.

"But you wish things hadn't changed," Katherine guessed.

"There's no point in thinking of it that way," Davey said. "Things did change, and I can't go back and take back my decision."

"But you wish you could," Katherine said.

"Of course, I do," Davey said. "But who would that help? Not me, and certainly not Jack. Things are good between us right now. I don't want that to change."

"In that case, maybe it's time to move on," Katherine suggested. "Put yourself out there. Meet new people. It can't hurt."

"It most certainly can," Davey said. "Besides, I'm busy."

"Doing what?" Katherine asked. "Reading books about subjects you have no reason to learn about? Working yourself to death? Spending your nights doing everything other than sleeping? That's not a good way to live."

"It keeps me occupied," Davey shrugged.

"From what?" Katherine demanded. "What are you trying to avoid?"

"Can we talk about something else?" Davey asked. "Please?"

Katherine closed her mouth, pressing her lips tightly together. "Whatever you say," she said. "But I still think you should stop by there again. At the very least, you can support a local business for your reading fix."

"How do you two even know each other?" Davey asked.

"Childhood friends," Katherine explained. "Our fathers were business partners."

Davey nodded in understanding. "I'll make you a deal," he said.

"Oh?" Katherine asked.

"I'll get my books from there for now on," Davey said. "But you don't ask questions. Okay?"

Katherine pouted, but nodded. "Fine," she agreed. "But if anything happens worth reporting, you will tell me, won't you?"

"Maybe," Davey said, noncommittally. "But don't get your hopes up."

Katherine smiled, nodding simply. "Whatever you say."

The conversation was dropped, and Katherine skipped the rest of the way to the park.

* * *

Davey stood outside of Tribune Books, looking up at the sign with uncertainty. He told Katherine he'd get his books from there for now on, and he was sorely in need of more books for the week. But he knew what she was planning, and he wasn't happy with it. He wasn't going to get himself involved in someone new. Not now, not ever. But, there was a small part of him that couldn't help but be curious. Some part that wanted something new. Davey shook his head, trying to shake away the thoughts. He was only here for books; books, and nothing more.

Davey pushed open the door, entering the shop. The smell of dust and old books met him with full force, and Davey couldn't decide if the smell was welcoming or frustrating.

"Be with you in a moment!" Darcy's voice called from the back, responding to the bell on the door.

Davey waited patiently in the front room, looking around at the various books on the shelves and tables. There didn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to where books were placed. Davey wondered how anyone managed to find things in here, if anyone came to this shop at all.

Darcy appeared in the doorway a moment later, glasses askew. "Oh, hello," he said, upon seeing Davey. "Good to see you again."

"Hello," Davey responded. "Came for more books."

"Well, I'd imagine so," Darcy responded. "I certainly wouldn't have expected you came back for the dust."

Davey couldn't help but laugh at that. "I finished the last book already, so I figured I'd return for more."

"Looking for anything in particular?" Darcy asked, taking off his glasses to clean them with a handkerchief he pulled from his pocket.

"Well, I've read a lot of historical books lately," Davey started. "Have anything on baking?"

"I can do you one better than that," Darcy said. "I've got old cookbooks from around the mid twentieth century. Historical and baking all in one."

"Sounds perfect," Davey said.

Darcy walked towards a particular shelf, scanning the books until he found what he was looking for. "Here you go," he said, handing the book to Davey. "Planning any new concoctions for your shop?"

Davey shook his head. "Not at the moment; baking is more of a hobby, currently."

"Not a bad hobby to have," Darcy said, nodding. "Well, if you make anything new, particularly more tea flavored things, let me know. I'm a sucker for those earl grey cupcakes."

"I'm glad someone likes them," Davey muttered.

"How's Katherine?" Darcy asked. "Haven't heard from her since you two stopped by a few days ago."

"She's fine," Davey explained. "The shop has been pretty busy with students returning for the semester."

"So, what are you doing here and not at work?" Darcy asked.

"Katherine had me head home early," he explained. "Normally, I'd say no, but we've got a bunch of baking to do in the morning, so an early night sounds like a good idea."

Darcy nodded in understanding. "Katherine is usually full of those good ideas," he said.

Davey couldn't help but agree. "Well, I should probably grab a few more books for the week and head on home."

"Anything you want in particular?" Darcy asked. "Besides baking, that is."

Davey thought about that for a moment. "Any recommendations?" he asked.

"How do you feel about movies?" Darcy asked. "Specifically, new movies. In a theater. Say, this weekend? With me?"

Davey stared at him blankly for a moment. "Wh-what?" he asked, his face growing warm.

"Of course, if you'd rather read I perfectly understand," Darcy said. "But if you're interested in broadening your horizons, branching out to movies could be a good go."

"I-I'm straight," Davey sputtered.

Darcy gave him a look, sizing him up and down.

"Okay, that's a lie," Davey amended. "But I'm really not . . . looking for anything right now."

"Then, let's call it two guys hanging out," Darcy suggested. "How does that sound?"

Davey thought about it for a moment. "I work late this weekend," he said.

"They have late movies," Darcy suggested.

"I'm allergic to popcorn," Davey said.

"We can eat before," Darcy replied.

"I'm allergic to . . . food," Davey stammered.

"It's up to you," Darcy laughed. "But if you'd rather read I understand. May I recommend books on the industrial revolution? Or perhaps the Civil War?"

"Both sound good," Davey said.

Darcy pulled a couple more books off of the self, heading towards the register to ring him up. Davey followed, handing Darcy the book in his hands.

Darcy scanned Davey's card, finishing the order and pulling out the receipt. He took a pen and quickly scribbled something down, handing the receipt and the books over to Davey. "I'll see you next week, then?" he said.

"Next week?" Davey asked.

"For your next supply of books," Darcy explained.

"Oh, right, yes," Davey agreed. "Next week."

Darcy nodded, smiling kindly.

Davey gave him a sheepish wave before turning and exiting the store. He looked down at the receipt, noticing the scribbling on it.

It was what appeared to be a phone number.

* * *

[Davey J: Hello]

[Darcy ?: Hello, who is this?]

[Davey J: Oh, sorry, it's Davey. Jacobs. Katherine's friend. From the shop. With the cupcakes.]

[Darcy ?: Hello, Davey. Nice to hear from you J]

[Davey J: So, uh, about movies this weekend . . .]

[Darcy ?: Oh?]

[Davey J: You're going to make me ask, aren't you?]

[Darcy ?: Ask what? J]

[Davey J: Would you, perhaps, like to see a movie this weekend?]

[Darcy ?: I would love to see a movie with you this weekend!]

[Davey J: Oh, cool]

[Darcy ?: Does dinner before sound good?]

[Davey J: Sure, sounds good.]

[Darcy ?: Just let me know what works for you J]

Davey stared down at his phone, shocked he had even sent the message in the first place. What was he doing? He had no time for dates, or getting involved with people, especially if that person showed interest in him. He was just setting himself up for disappointment. He had no time for disappointment. He had work to think about, and reading, and baking, and all the documentaries queued up on his to-watch-list. He certainly had no time for fooling around with a friend of Katherine's.

Yet, he couldn't deny, he was . . . excited? When was the last time he had felt truly, genuinely excited?

For what felt like the millionth time, he looked down at the business card in his hand that Spot had given to him those months ago. Maybe he didn't need therapy. Maybe, he just needed a date? He put the card back in his wallet, hoping to forget about it.

He didn't need help, just a good time. And that's exactly what he was going to have.

* * *

Street lights shown down brightly around them as Davey and Darcy walked hand-in-hand down the sidewalk. The dinner had been nice, accompanied by pleasant conversation, and the movie wasn't terrible, which was better than most movies Davey had seen lately (not that there were many of those). They had decided after the movie to walk back to Davey's apartment, where a handful of leftover earl grey cupcakes awaited them from the shop. Davey hated throwing out pastries, and usually sent them home with one of the employees. But today, he took the liberty of taking some extras for himself. He knew someone would enjoy them and hoped he would get the opportunity to share them.

"This is it," Davey said, stopping in front of his apartment building. The grey walls loomed over them, reflecting orange under the street lights.

"Shall we?" Darcy asked.

"Cupcakes await," Davey said, leading him up the stairs and towards his apartment. They stepped inside, and Davey turned on the lights, brightening up the small kitchen and living area.

Davey set the bag of cupcakes on the table, and the two each took one, settling down for more conversation. Davey had been hesitant about this but found that he actually really did enjoy Darcy's company. He, of course, wouldn't tell this to Katherine, but he actually, perhaps, liked him?

 _Tick, tick, tick . . ._

He was having a good night. He hadn't had a good night in so long, not like this, anyways. He knew what Sarah would say, though. She would say he was jumping into things too fast, that he shouldn't invite a date home on the first night. But he was a grown man, he could do whatever he very well pleased. And companionship pleased him. Having someone to talk to pleased him. He hadn't talked so easily to someone in so long, not since Jack . . .

 _Tick, tick, tick . . ._

He wasn't rushing things. Darcy was a good person, someone Katherine trusted. And if Katherine could trust him, why shouldn't he? He could practically hear Sarah's voice, telling him that it wasn't a matter of trust that was the problem. That he had his own problems to work out, that involving someone else wasn't going to help him, only delay the inevitable. What inevitable? He was fine; he wasn't depressed anymore. He was active and doing things, being useful at work, learning new things, spending adequate time with friends, so what if he hadn't slept in a while? So what if he had loads more energy than normal? That was a sign he was better. He was better. He was better.

 _Tick, tick, tick . . ._

Sarah would tell him he was being stupid, and rash. That he shouldn't invite this person he had only known a little over a week to stay the night. That he shouldn't offer for this almost stranger to sleep in his bed. That he shouldn't be kissing him so quickly. He was moving too fast, he was taking too many risks, he wasn't thinking straight.

 _Tick, tick, tick . . ._

Damn what Sarah had to say. Davey was fine. He was going to be fine. He was already fine. Everything would be fine.

If only the damn ticking would stop.


	36. Chapter 36

**I couldn't wait to get this chapter written so have yet another speedy update!**

"Now, what's that smile for?"

"What smile?" Crutchie asked innocently, trying to suppress the grin that stretched across his face.

"You know what smile," Jack said, pointing at his face. "What's got you looking so sunshiny? Well, more sunshiny than usual."

"I might have some exciting news to report," Crutchie admitted, not trying to hide his smile anymore.

"The auditions?" Jack guessed. "You get a good role? Another lead?"

Crutchie shook his head. "Yes and no," he explained. "Didn't get a lead, but I got something so much better than that."

"And what would that be?" Jack asked.

"My favorite character in the entire play," Crutchie beamed.

"Well, spit it out, already. Who's you playing?" Jack coaxed.

"I got a role in Hamlet," Crutchie exclaimed. "We'll be putting it on in October. I'se playing Horatio!"

"I . . . have no idea who that is but that's great!" Jack cheered.

"You never read Hamlet in high school?" Crutchie asked.

"I don't think you fully appreciate how bad my high school experience was," Jack pointed out.

Crutchie shrugged. "Certainly doesn't show. You'se plenty smart."

"Well, thanks," Jack said. "Still don't know a thing about Hamlet, though."

"You'll have an opportunity to learn something new, then," Crutchie smiled. "I'll be happy to tell you all about it even before you come see it."

"Sounds like a good deal to me," Jack agreed.

"Hey Jack, stop flirting and fix me up a London fog, would ya?" Albert barked, ringing up a customer.

"On it," Jack said, standing up straight from where he was leaning on the counter and getting to work on the drink.

"One waffle with espresso syrup," Spot said, placing the plate in front of Crutchie on the counter.

"Thanks," Crutchie thanked him. "It's good to see you back here, Spot."

Spot just simply nodded before heading off to the next table.

"He's been nothing but business ever since getting his job back," Jack explained, finishing up the drink and placing it on the counter, calling out the appropriate customer's name.

"It's great Davey was able to get him rehired," Crutchie said.

Jack nodded in agreement. "It wasn't easy, but I'm glad it worked out in the end."

"Something seems off about him today, though," Albert pointed out. "Sure, he's been more straightforward about work lately, but today he seems . . . not all there, if you catch my meaning."

Jack leaned forward, watching Spot carefully across the room. Crutchie turned as well, noting him as he took a pair of customer's food orders. He seemed normal to Crutchie, albeit perhaps standing up a bit straighter than usual.

"Appears normal to me," Jack said.

"It's something in his eyes," Albert explained. "He's got a real distant look. Like his mind ain't here or something."

"He's probably just tired or something, I don't know," Jack groaned. "What's your point?"

"I'se just a little worried is all," Albert explained. "He's only been back a week and he's kinda throwing himself into things. Just don't want to see him crash."

"He'll be fine," Jack assured him. "He's smart enough to take care of himself."

"You think he'll perform tonight at open mic night?" Crutchie asked.

Jack shrugged. "Doubt it," he said. "He probably wants to lie low for a bit."

Crutchie nodded in understanding. "I'd like to see him perform. I miss his rants."

"Oh, you and everyone else," Albert said. "He's been in high demand ever since May."

"Understandably so," Crutchie said. "His bits were a hit."

"What about you? You doing anything tonight?" Jack asked.

"Nah," Crutchie said. "Left my uke back at the dorm and don't feel up to walking all the way there and back again."

"I'll get you to perform next month, then," Jack said.

"I'll sing for you as soon as you paint me something," Crutchie said, grinning with mischief.

Jack looked away, suddenly preoccupied with a spot on the counter.

"In the meantime, get your ass into gear," Albert snapped. "We'se got customers coming in."

A flock of college-aged kids came in, and the shop resumed to its busy state. Albert and Jack got to work, taking orders and preparing drinks in record time. Before long Katherine came out to join them, helping Jack to prepare the drinks.

"Hey Jack, add some art to this next drink alright?" Albert asked. "Customers are asking for it."

"S-sure . . ." Jack said, finishing up the order and grabbing the milk. He held it over the cup for a moment, simply staring at the cup with a look of frustration on his face.

Jack set the pot of milk back on the counter. "You do it, Kath," he said, scooting past her. "I need some air."

Before Katherine could argue, Jack was making his way out from behind the counter, heading to the back of the shop. Crutchie watched as he quickly made his exit, sensing that something was wrong. He had half a mind to follow him but decided that Jack probably spoke true and just needed to get some air. Crutchie remained in his seat.

Jack pushed through the back door of the shop, stepping outside into the alleyway. He paced for a few moments, feeling his ears ringing. He paused only for a moment to kick the side of the wall, immediately regretting it as pain shot up through his foot. Damn, that stupid.

"You doing alright there?"

Jack looked up quickly, seeing Blink standing in the doorway. "What're you doing here?" he asked.

"Saw you storm through the kitchen, figured something was up," Blink said, leaning against the doorframe. "Is something up?"

"It's nothing, Kid; get back to work," Jack muttered.

"You ain't my boss, so I ain't gotta listen to you," Blink pointed out. "Seriously, why you all riled up?"

"I said it's nothing," Jack snapped, slamming his fist against the wall.

"Yeah, sure, alright," Blink said. "How's about I go get Davey? Have him check on you? Would that be better?"

"I don't need no one checking on me," Jack argued. "Least of all Davey."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Blink asked.

"Davey ain't exactly his finest lately," Jack pointed out.

Blink shrugged. "He's getting his work done; ain't so much the same for you."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Jack questioned.

"Everyone knows why the owner's such a fan of you," Blink said. "You always were especially charming for customers. Drawing their faces in their lattes and shit. You don't do none of that no more. People getting kinda disappointed that they don't have their fancy lattes now. So, come on. What's up with that?"

Jack shrugged. "Just ain't been inspired," he mumbled.

"That's a load of shit and you know it," Blink told him.

Jack glared at him. "And what makes you think that?"

Blink pointed at his head. "Something's wrong up there, ain't it?" he suggested. "You can't focus on art no more, right? It don't compute from your head to your hands, even if you try."

Jack stared at him, mouth agape.

"Yeah, that's right, ain't it," Blink affirmed. "You know why that is, don't you?"

Jack stared for a moment longer, eventually shaking his head.

"Your head injury," Blink said. "Lingering symptoms, right?"

"How do you know that?" Jack asked.

"I'se been there before," Blink answered. "Except I couldn't hardly handwrite, let alone do anything art-wise. Not that I was ever good at art to begin with."

"What happened?" Jack asked.

Blink was silent for a moment, looking down at his feet. He looked back up at Jack a moment later, shrugging. "Long story so I'll keep it short; got myself some nasty head trauma. How'd you think I lost this?" he asked, pointing at the patch over his left eye.

"How long did it take?" Jack asked. "To get back to normal, I mean."

"Couple of years," Blink answered. "But it all depends on the person, really. If you'se having trouble, though, I'd recommend telling someone instead of keeping it to yourself. It's gonna cause more problems than just art blocks."

Jack frowned. "I don't wanna worry no one," he explained.

"Do what you want," Blink said. "But you might end up worrying people a lot more if you keep silent." And with that, he turned and headed back inside, leaving Jack alone in the alley.

He stood there for a moment, standing stock still before slamming his fist against the side of the wall again. His knuckles were certainly going to bruise at this point.

Jack wasted no more time outside, going back into the shop to wash his hands.

"Jack, get over here, we need another set of hands," Katherine called, seeing Jack walk back into the coffeeshop.

Jack did as he was told, grabbing the next cup in line and getting to work on the drink. He could feel the others eyes watching him, particularly Crutchie's, but did his best to ignore them.

"You good?" Katherine asked him quietly, pausing from the order she was working on.

"Fine," Jack mumbled, measuring out the correct amount of espresso into a cup.

Katherine decided not to press the matter further, allowing it to drop.

The day bore on without further incident, the end of the day approaching slowly but surely. Katherine stepped out of the shop and into the back hallway, making her way to the office where she found Davey going over paperwork.

"We need to start setting up soon," Katherine said, taking a seat at her desk.

"Hmm," Davey nodded in response, not looking up from his work.

"Spot seems to be doing well back," Katherine said conversationally. "He's been working hard all day."

"Hmm," Davey hummed, still not looking up.

"He said he has something he wants to say tonight," Katherine added. "Something along the lines of thanks and . . . something else? Though he wouldn't say what."

"Hmm," Davey hummed yet again.

"So, I'm thinking about asking Sarah to marry me," Katherine stated bluntly. "I'm going to ask her tonight, and then take her to a courthouse tomorrow. How does that sound?"

"Hmm," Davey hummed, marking something on the page he was reading over.

"Davey are you even listening to me?" Katherine asked. "Davey?!"

"Hmm, what?" Davey asked, finally looking up from his work.

"Are you okay?" Katherine asked. "You seem out of it."

"I'm fine," Davey responded. "Better than fine. I'm great."

Katherine eyed him suspiciously. "Are you sure about that?" she asked.

"One hundred percent," Davey answered. "What did you say about Sarah?"

"Never mind," Katherine said. "How are things going with Da–books? With books?"

"Fine . . .?" Davey answered, uncertain.

"Read anything . . . interesting?" Katherine asked.

"If you're trying to ask about Darcy, we made a deal," he reminded her.

"I know, I know," Katherine said. "Just, if you ever want to talk about things, I'm here. Okay?"

"Uh-huh," Davey said. "I know. But there's nothing to talk about." He got up from his seat. "I'm going to start setting up for tonight. Come help once you finish up in here."

Katherine nodded as Davey exited the room. She didn't buy his words for a moment but wasn't going to press the matter further. He'd talk when he was ready, surely.

The night was beginning to start, and soon Jacobi's was filling with customers ready for the first open mic night of the new school semester. Several acts were on the bill, mostly returning students ready to show off their talent they had practiced all summer. Even Les and Sarah had stopped by so Les could perform on his kazoo yet again. Coffee was flowing, and all the tea themed pastries were being eaten up to a degree that they normally weren't. The atmosphere was relaxed and contented, and everyone cheered appropriately for each act.

"It's about time you showed up," Albert snapped as Race made his way behind the counter.

"Sorry, got caught in traffic," he explained, tying up his apron. "Is Spot here?"

"Still in the eatery, why?" Jack asked.

Race shrugged. "Said he had something he wanted me to see when I got here," he said. "Dunno what he could be talking about."

"He's on the bill to perform tonight," Albert said, looking over the list. "Wasn't expecting that, to be honest."

"He's up next, ain't he?" Jack asked, looking over Albert's shoulder. "Wonder what he's gonna rant about tonight."

"If it's about moths I swear I'se gonna kill him," Race muttered.

"Shh, he's going up now," Albert said.

Cheers erupted as Spot took the stage, grabbing the mic from the stand and waiting somewhat impatiently for the crowd to quiet down.

"Alright, alright, I get it, you'se all very excited," Spot groaned. "You shouldn't be, though. I ain't got much funny stuff to say tonight, since that's what you all seem to be interested in. I just gotta few words to say, so I'll keep this short."

The audience quieted down, listening intently to what one of their favorite acts had to say.

"Now look, I'se gotta be real with all of you for a second. I'se . . . I'se a major screw up. No, really. I screw up just about everything I do. I ain't looking for no sympathy, just stating facts. Recently, I screwed up big time, and it nearly cost me more than I'd like to admit. But things worked out in the end, no thanks to me, but thanks to some real swell friends I got who was looking out for me. And, well, I gotta thank them. Proper and such. So, Davey Jacobs, you know who you are you don't gotta raise your hand or nothing. Thanks, for everything."

Spot took a pause, the audience waiting patiently for him to continue. "Now, more about me screwing up. Me and some friends recently had a party. It ain't important why, just some kid who's too good for his, well, own good's birthday happened, so of course us and some buddies got together to celebrate proper. Well, I made a mistake by allowing this party to happen, because of course that little runt decided he wanted to watch a movie. And you know, that movie we watched got me thinking about something, which is never a good sign."

The audience laughed at this, and Spot waited for them to finish before continuing.

"Anyways, the movie got me thinking: what do gay couples do when they'se ready to propose to each other? Who decides who's gonna be the one to do the proposing? What if they both show up one night ready to propose, both having bought rings and all that shit, and then what? They just both propose? That sounds like a waste of money to me. Or do one of them decide they'se the dominant one in the relationship and be the one to make the move? Cause, that don't sound too fair. I don't know; it's all confusing to me."

By this point, the audience was dead silent; even the baristas behind the counter had stopped their work to listen intently.

"I also screwed up that night when trying to kill an intruder. Now, don't worry, it wasn't nobody important, just some fucking moth. Shit, sorry, I ain't supposed to say words like that here. Anyways, this moth shows up and I tries to kill it good and proper, as you do, and nearly take out the light and the birthday kid's face. Sorry, not kid. You'se an adult. I'll get it right eventually. Anyways, so I tries to kill this moth, and I just screw up over and over and finally this fine lady takes it out for us all nice and well. Thanks Sarah, you'se a real hero. But my point is, I'se a major screw up, and I don't think that's ever gonna change."

Spot took another pause, gathering himself. "But, you know, there's one thing I ain't gonna screw up. And that's this night. I'se been thinking long and hard about it for, well, a real long time. Longer than I care to admit. And I finally decided it was time I get it over with. Before I figure out a way to screw it up too."

Spot set the mic back on the stand and exited the small stage. He made his way to the counter, jumping over it with ease and standing directly in front of Race.

The audience had all turned to watch the next series of events, everyone remaining and quietly as possible in order to hear what was spoken.

"I'se screwed up a lot over the past couple of years," Spot explained, looking straight up at Race. "I don't need to get into the details, you know them all. But one thing I didn't screw up was you. I ain't good at this so bear with me, but you'se, well, you'se the best thing I'se ever had happen to me. Ain't no other way to say it than that. And I don't want that to change. I want that to keep going on, to never stop."

Spot paused, looking down at his feet for a moment before looking back up at Race, who was staring at him with a wide-eyed expression that Spot couldn't read.

"Well, I guess I can't put it off much longer," Spot said. "I don't got nothing to show for it, cause I'se about as broke as our economy, but I can at least do it proper." He knelt down in front of Race, taking one of his hands in his own.

"God, I love you," Spot said. "More than anything. And I won't ever stop. So, Racetrack Higgins, will you . . . fuck it, will you marry me?"

The entire shop was silent. Everyone's eyes were on Race, who could only stare with his eyes wide down at Spot. Any ability to speak had left him; he could only stare.

Albert nudged him in the side. "Say something, Race," he hissed.

"I . . ." Race started, pausing and closing his mouth.

Spot waited patiently, still holding tightly onto Race's hand.

Race felt himself start to tremble. The world around him had begun to get blurry. He felt as if his heart was going to beat right out of his chest. "I," he started again. "Are you sure? One hundred percent sure?"

"Surer than ever," Spot answered, without even a thought.

"You can do so much better," Race whispered, so that only he and Spot could hear.

"Better don't exist, Racer," Spot answered. "I'se looking at the best right here."

Tears had begun to well in Race's eyes. "We don't have hardly a penny to our names," Race reminded him.

"That's okay, we got all we need already," Spot told him.

"My parents would kill me," Race breathed.

"I won't let them," Spot said with certainty. "No one's gonna touch you."

"Promise?" Race asked.

"Promise," Spot assured him.

Race wiped at his eyes with his free hand. "Fuck you Conlon," he groaned. "I'se gonna have to say yes in front of all these people, ain't I?"

"That'd be preferred, but not enforced," Spot joked.

"Maybe I'll say no just to make you look stupid," Race suggested.

"And I'll kick your ass out of love," Spot laughed.

Race laughed too. "I can't believe this," he said. "I cannot believe this is happening."

"Is . . . is that a yes?" Spot asked, hopeful.

"Of course, it's a yes, you idiot," Race snapped. "Yes, god, yes!"

The shop erupted in a roar of cheers, Spot jumping to his feet and gathering Race into a tight hug. Race was unabashedly crying by this point, the tears falling freely as he held onto Spot tightly.

The rest of the night went beautifully, every act remarking how they couldn't possibly live up to Spot's, and a few dedicating their performances to the newly engaged couple. Spot and Race didn't leave each other's side until the night was done and it was time to clean up and close shop.

The rest of the shop crew congratulated Spot and Race on their future together, no one knowing quite what to say as they were all still shocked by the proposal.

The shop closed, and Davey offered to have Jack sleep on his couch that night, so that Spot and Race could have a night to themselves for once. The two graciously accepted, and Davey had Jack and Crutchie get into this car to drive them home.

"That was . . . unexpected," Jack said, getting into the backseat.

"But is you surprised?" Crutchie asked, getting into the seat across from him.

"It was bound to happen sooner or later," Davey said, turning on the car and pulling out of the lot. "Just . . . wasn't expecting it tonight."

"Had Spot said anything to you?" Crutchie asked Jack. "Suggesting that he might?"

Jack shook his head. "Not a word," he said. "I'm almost hurt."

"You would have spoiled it, that's why," Davey told him.

"That is . . . absolutely true," Jack agreed.

The car went silent, but it wasn't unpleasant. The air was still filled with excitement and elation, for the briefest of moments, Jack's earlier worries were alleviated.

Sometimes, good things happened. And Jack was going to hold onto those feelings. For as long as he could. Heavens knows he needed them.


End file.
